


Apologies and Other Disasters

by kisahawklin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 09, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing, Bacon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Fantasizing, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Huddling For Warmth, Kevin Lives, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Pancakes, Pre-Slash, Slow Build, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:25:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon divergent AU from 9.03. After Sam kicks Ezekiel to the curb, the first thing they do is to go find Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accusation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clavally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clavally/gifts).



> As always, Clavally gives me inspiring prompts which I then twist around to my whim. Sorry, Clavally. This one was: _Tell me what happens when Dean and Cas meet again? The one where Cas is still hurt that he got pushed out of their home and Dean assures him he didn't want to (would never want to) send him away?_ And somehow my _brilliant_ idea for Sam POV turned into a slightly Wincestiel and majorly angsty version of the prompt.

~~~

"And that wasn't a clue?" Sam yells, watching Dean flinch with grim satisfaction. "Some angel, one that _Cas vouched for_ , tells you Cas can't stay in the bunker, which, by the way, is the safest place for him, and you _kick Cas out_?!" Sam is practically roaring now, he's so angry. Dean doesn't back down, of course he doesn’t, because he's a stubborn jackass who'll cut off his nose to spite his face.

"He had your life on a leash, Sam," Dean says, low and grim, but not apologetic. "I told you nothing comes before you. Not even Cas."

Sam takes a deep breath. Yelling at Dean is only going to make him dig his heels in further. "Not even my own wishes," he says, just as calmly deadpan as Dean. He meets Dean's eyes and dares him to look away first. That breaks Dean's composure and he turns his face away, rubbing a knuckle into his eye. 

"Sammy," Dean says, his voice broken and small. Sam lets him have the time, in case he decides to argue, because sometimes he does, for no other reason than Dean can't stand anyone seeing his weaknesses, even when fighting about it makes them more obvious. He must know none of his arguments hold water because he doesn't follow up with anything.

"I'm pissed at you, Dean," Sam says, calmer now that Dean's finally listening. "That isn't going away any time soon. But right now, Cas is out there, alone, and that comes first."

Dean nods, glancing up to meet Sam's eyes. "All right," he says, and Sam knows there's a whole lot more packed into those two words than simple agreement. He can count on one hand the number of times he's heard Dean actually apologize, and this is as close as he's going to get for now.

"We're going to go get him and bring him back here," Sam says, "and then you're going to find some way to apologize to him – with the words 'I'm sorry' and everything." Dean opens his mouth to protest but Sam glares at him until he snaps it shut. He's still pissed and he knows Dean doesn't usually see his rage, especially not directed at him, so it's almost always effective at getting Dean to shut up. Dean tilts his head – almost a nod, though Sam's sure he'll deny it later when he tries to weasel out of apologizing to Cas. 

"All right. Pack your gear, we're leaving in ten." 

There's no smart remark, nothing about Sam being bossy or even a half-hearted complaint, and that's when Sam's satisfied that Dean really does feel bad about it all, he knows he fucked up big this time. It's not as gratifying as hearing the words come out of Dean's mouth, but they'll get there. For all he bitches about chick flick moments, it's Dean that needs to say the words, not Sam. Sam's the one that needs to hear them.

~~~

It takes sixteen days, better tracking skills than he thought they had, a run of good luck, and two locator spells, but they track Cas down in a dilapidated hunting shanty in northern Montana, spitting distance from the Canadian border.

He's dressed for cold, but not for this kind of cold, and they find him huddling in a pile of blankets, biting his mitten to keep his teeth from chattering too loudly. Sam can't even react, he's so overwhelmed by seeing Cas there, so pitiful and small, so unlike the angel he used to be. Dean's right on top of things, though, he walks right over to Cas and hauls him off the ground, steadying him with both hands when Cas looks like he's going to fall right back down again. "Cas," Dean admonishes in his best mother hen voice, the one Sam only gets to hear when he's too sick for Dean to tease, "what the hell were you thinking?"

Dean is always best in crisis mode, so he half-walks, half-carries Cas to the Impala, turning her on and blasting the heat. He makes Sam sit in the back seat and shoves Cas on top of him, covering them with everything Cas had in the little hut and the wool blankets and sleeping bags from the trunk. Sam would protest but he runs hot, always has, even more since the trials, so it only makes sense that he should bring Cas up to temperature. He's a little surprised and pretty damn pleased when, after packing up all of Cas's stuff and throwing it in the trunk, Dean crawls in with them, settling himself between Cas's legs and leaning back to lend his warmth to Cas, too. 

It was far from comfortable with just him and Cas in the back seat; with Dean in the car, Sam feels like he's being squeezed in a vise. The armrest is digging into his back uncomfortably and everything below his waist is numb from a combination of Cas and Dean's weight and extreme contortionism. Dean's curled up with his boots on the door and his knees practically in his face – Sam's a little worried that he's going to put too much pressure on the window and knock it out. They warm Cas up pretty quickly between them, though, and when Sam realizes Dean is massaging Cas's feet, he feels like just maybe he got through to Dean back in the bunker. Then he remembers it's standard first aid for hypothermia, so he grabs Cas's hand and does the same. 

They keep Cas awake until he doesn't feel like a popsicle anymore, and then they do rock-paper-scissors for who gets to drive. Sam has no idea why Dean even bothers but he goes through the motions anyway, and helps with the blankets and sleeping bags while Dean gets them re-situated so Cas is resting again his chest. Cas is a complete rag doll, mostly sleeping and sometimes looking up with empty eyes, blinking at them like he's trying to piece together what's going on. It doesn't last long and he goes back to sleep as soon as he's settled against Dean, on his side with his head resting on Dean's chest. Sam can't help smiling. He slept like that for years and remembers exactly how comfortable it is, though Sam'd be willing to bet Cas will wake with leg cramps in a couple of hours.

~~~

Sam is totally wrong. Cas sleeps for twenty-two hours straight while Sam drives them out of the mountains, back to the Kansas plains and the bunker. He stops for gas five times and takes over Cas-holding long enough for Dean to hit the head and stretch his legs, but Dean always comes back and lets Cas curl up against him again. Sam's pretty sure guilt is riding Dean hard – if he didn't feel responsible for Cas's semi-frozen state, he would've slipped into the driver's seat while Sam was stuck being Cas's body pillow and just driven off. But he doesn't, he taps Sam's shoulder and they do the hokey pokey until Cas is settled somewhat comfortably again and Sam's back in the driver's seat.

When they finally get back to the bunker, Dean wakes Cas up for real. "Cas, wake up." Sam pulls off the last of the wool blankets – Cas had been gradually peeling off layers since hour four and he gave a great heave at the last gas stop, throwing most of it over the front seat.

"C'mon, Cas, we're home." Dean shakes him a little harder and Cas's eyes open a bit, still glassy. 

"Can you walk?" Sam asks, and Cas stares at him for a long time before asking, "What?"

"Can you walk?" Sam asks again, shooing Dean out of the car so Cas doesn't have anything to lean against. "Just to get you to a room – you can crash as soon as you hit the bed."

Cas perks up noticeably at that, glancing out the rear window. "Where are we?"

Sam grins. They'd never stayed at a place nice enough to have indoor parking, so it's not that surprising a question. 

"The bunker," Sam answers just as Dean loses his patience and drags Cas bodily out of the car. Cas lets out a yelp. 

"But…" Cas says, looking back and forth from Dean to Sam. "It's not safe for me to be here."

Sam looks at Dean meaningfully and pats Cas on the shoulder as he heads out of the garage. "Good night, Cas," he says, leaving the explaining to Dean and looking forward to face planting on his own mattress.

~~~


	2. Admission

~~~

Sam wakes up a couple hours later, unsettled, his heart pounding. He doesn't remember his dreams, but he's been waking like this since he kicked Ezekiel out, like he wants to make sure he's still the one driving the bus. He gets up to go to the kitchen; he doesn't really need a drink of water, but it's just long enough a process that it calms his jangling nerves and he can sleep for another couple of hours when he gets back to his bed.

He passes Dean's room (nearest the entrance, as always) and the door is wide open. The bed is slept in, covers rucked up, but no Dean. His instincts kick into overdrive and he crouches, slipping into Dean's room to grab his machete. He goes out into the main area first, but he clears that easily, lights still on and Kevin hunched over the angel tablet.

"Hey," Kevin says, glancing at the machete with alarm. "Something up?"

"Maybe not," Sam says, looking at Kevin. "Anything weird going on out here? Weird noises, stuff like that?"

"Well," Kevin says, leaning back in his chair. "Nothing monster-y, if that's what you mean. But Dean's been out three times since you guys got in, for food and water and whiskey. And he's taken it back to his room."

That is pretty weird. Dean's neurotic about keeping his room clean, he'd never eat or drink in bed. Sam nods. "Thanks. How's it going?"

Kevin shrugs. "Slowly. Thought I might take a break, play a little Assassins Creed. Wanna play?"

Sam shakes his head. "Maybe tomorrow. Don't stay up too late."

Kevin raises an eyebrow. "Dude, it's seven thirty." 

"Oh," Sam says, not even sure what else to say. Time always gets weird for him in the bunker, and spending the last whole day driving didn't help. "Well, have fun then."

He heads back down to the sleeping rooms and carefully sets Dean's machete back in its place, wandering down to the low murmuring he can hear coming from one of the rooms. It's two down from Kevin's; they tend to put a room in between each of them. There's not one of them that doesn't have nightmares and the empty rooms absorb the sound.

As he gets closer, he can hear what the murmuring sound is – Dean singing his way through _Ramble On_. Sam slips forward silently, peeking in the door that's standing half ajar. Dean's sitting on the side of Cas's bed, Cas curled around him like an apostrophe, bundled up so much Sam can see the sweat-soaked hairs at the base of his skull. There's a tray of picked-at food on the table, a half-full glass of water and a tumbler with a little melted ice at the bottom of it. 

Dean stops singing and says softly, "Cas?"

Cas sighs in his sleep, nestling closer to Dean. Dean lays a hand on his back, and Sam starts backing up, sure Dean'll be leaving in a second. "Cas, I'm sorry," Dean says, and Sam freezes, caught between wanting to give Dean his privacy and needing to know what Dean's going to say next. He flattens himself against the wall.

"You know I wouldn't have kicked you out if it wasn't Sammy's life on the line, right?" Sam can hear shifting material, and he holds himself still, doesn't give in to the urge to peek around the corner again. "Anything else, and I would've said 'bring it.' You and us against the world. You know that, right?"

Sam closes his eyes, wondering how many apologies he's received in his sleep. Wonders if Dean thinks they count. Wonders if _he_ thinks they count.

The bed creaks and Sam can't help glancing back into the room. Dean's leaned forward, his head down, hands together, almost like a prayer. "Guess this makes us about even, then, huh." He chuckles, a low, empty sound. Sam has to keep himself from not-really-laughing, too. Like there's any concept of 'even' in the ways they hurt each other. He leans back against the wall, closing his eyes again, not even breathing, listening for more – _hoping_ for more.

Dean hums a little more Zeppelin and the bed creaks again, Dean's boots shuffling against the floor as he stands. "We'll take care of you, though. We'll take care of you and we'll work out this angel thing together."

Sam rolls his eyes. _That's_ a Winchester apology, an offer of solidarity and a strong arm to help fix what's broken. Not the soft mumbled words of heartfelt regret. Winchester apologies are big on skipping the emotional details and getting straight to fixing your mistakes.

He hears Dean's footsteps and hurries into the empty bedroom next door before Dean makes his way out of Cas's room. Sam can hear the rattle of plates and glasses as Dean shifts the tray he must've picked up and closes Cas's door behind him with a soft click.

When Dean's footsteps fade away, Sam quietly moves to Cas's door, opening it as silently as he can and peeking in, one last check on Cas before he heads back to his own room – furthest from the main area, and from Dean's room (not entirely coincidentally). When he pushes the door open, though, Cas is awake, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. 

"Cas," Sam says, startled. Cas looks over at him, gives him the tiniest lifted corner of his mouth in greeting. Sam smiles back at him automatically. "So you heard all that." 

Cas shrugs under the pile of blankets, then nods his head slightly. 

Sam struggles with the urge to defend Dean, to explain him to Cas like Cas isn't already aware of all the ways in which Dean is broken – and probably some ways that even Sam doesn't know. 

Instead he says, "I'm sorry too," because he should've realized something was up sooner, that Cas hadn't really wanted to leave them behind. He's not positive Ezekiel was playing with his awareness, but Cas leaving was the seed that led to him figuring out Ezekiel's presence, so he supposes he owes Cas a thank you as well as an apology.

Cas sighs. "I'm sorry I vouched for Ezekiel." He shifts slightly, enough to really meet Sam's eyes. "I'm sorry you were possessed, Sam, but I am not sorry you're still alive because of it."

Sam nods. He doesn't even know his own mind about it anymore. Dean says he was ready to walk off into the sunset with Death, make it permanent this time. It's hard to imagine, now that he's here and on the mend, though he feels it sometimes, the soul-deep tiredness. "Looks like we're all sorry," Sam jokes, smiling to soften the weight of it. 

There's nothing more to say, so Sam backs up, putting a hand on the doorknob. "Try to get some sleep," he says, and Cas rearranges himself back under the covers, up to his neck. "It's good to have you here."

Cas's face softens, an uncertain expression Sam's sure he's never seen before – at least not directed at him. "Thank you," Cas says, and turns his head into his pillow, closing his eyes. Sam closes the door behind him, making his way to his own Spartan room and flopping onto the bed, asleep nearly as soon as he crawls under the covers.

~~~

The smell of bacon wakes him, and he follows his nose to the main room where Dean, Cas, and Kevin are huddled around one of the tables, a platter loaded with pancakes and bacon in the center of it. "About time, lazybones," Dean says, with a genuine smile that means he's actually happy Sam slept through the night. Sam can't decide if he's charmed or annoyed that Dean's regressed to when they were kids and it was his job to make sure Sam ate enough and went to bed on time and did all the other crap kids are supposed to do.

Kevin scowls a little, looking like maybe someone woke him up too early and he's not entirely thrilled with being upright. He's digging into the pancakes pretty good, though.

Sam sits down and sticks his fork in the pile of pancakes, pulling three onto his plate. They're lukewarm, good enough for him, especially since the syrup is pretty hot – it melts the butter as he pours, chasing it down the short stack into a delicious moat of gooey goodness. "When did you learn how to make pancakes?" Sam asks around his second forkful, because they're actually pretty good.

"This morning," Dean says. "It's not that hard if you know a couple of tricks."

Sam picks up the plate of bacon and tips a couple of pieces into the syrup, eliciting a gasp of horror from Dean and an annoyed frown from Cas. "You said I couldn't let the bacon touch the syrup," Cas says, and Kevin snickers meanly from beneath his bangs.

"Because you shouldn't!" Dean says, pointing a reprimanding finger at Sam. "That's blasphemy!"

Sam smiles widely with his mouth half-full – a Dean special – and dips his bacon in the syrup for a second bite. He takes another piece off the plate in the middle of the table, dips it, and hands it to Cas just to watch Dean sputter incoherently.

"I like it," Cas says, and Dean throws up his hands and shoves his chair back from the table, picking up his plate and Cas's and stomping off to the kitchen. "I wasn't done with that!" Cas shouts after him, and Sam likes the teasing he can hear in Cas's voice. He grins and dumps syrup over the last three pieces of bacon on the serving plate, pushing it Cas's way.

~~~


	3. Apology

~~~

Cas always seems to be cold, borrowing layers from Dean and Sam and sitting too close to try and keep warm. He's got four or five blankets on his bed and Sam would die of heatstroke if he tried to sleep like that. His bed is never made, either. It bothers Sam, the untidiness of it, but he knows it's because of his upbringing and logic tells him that Cas is just going to crawl back in it the next night so there's no point in making the bed anyway. Still, it bugs him. He's a little surprised Dean hasn't snuck in and made Cas's bed for him – if there's ever anyone more of a neat freak than him, it's Dean.

They do a lot of research and Cas spends a lot of time looking longingly at the angel tablet, like it might be able to fix him again. Sam's pretty sure he's touched it already, pretty sure he snuck out of his room some night and held it in his hands, hoping for a miracle. Sam doesn't believe in miracles, not anymore.

Dean usually follows Cas to the sleeping rooms not too long after Cas retires. Sometimes he'll traipse back through, going to the kitchen and getting a glass of water, like it's something he does all the time, keeping water by his bed. He doesn't – never has that Sam can remember – and it's always Cas's room that Sam has to raid when they run low on glassware. Sam kind of hopes Dean's still singing Cas Zeppelin lullabies, maybe telling him things in his sleep (or not-sleep, if the last time Sam caught him was any indication). He likes to think Cas is someone Dean can talk to, even if he has to be unconscious first. 

Two and a half weeks after Cas's homecoming, they finally have it out, him and Dean, and it's exactly as messy as he knew it would be. Kevin takes the tablet and flees the room as soon as Sam stands up, kicking his chair halfway across the room to do it. He sees Kevin in his peripheral vision waving to Cas, trying to get him to come along, but gives up when it becomes obvious that Cas isn't paying any attention to him. 

Dean leans back in his chair, not rising to Sam's bait. Sam's dying to punch him, his reaction to Dean's offhand tease about how much he's sleeping all out of proportion. "Maybe you wouldn't need to sleep so much if you hadn't kicked Zeke out and he could've finished the job."

"Maybe I wouldn't need to sleep so much if you had just let me _die_ instead of giving an angel permission to wear me around like a goddamn meatsuit!" Sam roars, angry at Dean in a way he can't express, so much rage he's burning with it, adrenaline prickling in his arms and legs. He wants to fight, too much violence in his veins for anyone other than Dean – if he went out for a barfight tonight, he'd probably kill someone.

Dean finally stands, holds his arms out wide like he's some kind of martyr. "You want to punch me? I get it. Fine, take your best shot."

Sam sets his jaw and shakes his head, his fists still curled tightly at his sides. He doesn't want that, as much as the rush of blood in his ears is saying _yes_. "I want you to admit you were _wrong_ , Dean."

Dean pouts his lips out, brings his arms in across his chest. "Nope," Dean says, tilting his head back like he's trying to give Sam a perfect spot for an uppercut. "You dying is not an option," Dean says. "Not on my watch."

"It wasn't your decision to make," Sam says, moving forward because more and more he's thinking he might take Dean up on his offer for a free punch or eight. He doesn't think it'll make him feel better, exactly, but it sure wouldn't hurt to see Dean suffering a little. "And you know that or you wouldn't have lied to me about it all that time."

Dean lets his arms drop, nodding, not in agreement but in disbelief. "When we were in that cabin with Death, you said you'd do whatever it took. Was that a lie?"

Sam takes a deep breath and releases his fists. "No. But you should've told me, Dean. You should've been honest with me right away so that angel couldn't get his claws in me."

That's the thing that breaks Dean's composure, the crack in his shell that makes him look away, avoid Sam's eyes. "I know. I tried, Sammy. Some of the lies I was telling – I know I'm good, but…"

Sam rolls his eyes. "He was watching, Dean. All the time. I know he shifted things in here," he says, pointing at his temple, "dulled my thinking, made everything feel all hunky-dory so I wouldn't go poking at stuff. If it wasn't for Cas, I don't think I would've ever figured out what was going on."

Cas gasps, and they both turn to look at him. Sam hadn't forgotten Cas was there, but he remembers too late that he never did say thank you. 

"Me?" Cas asks. "I don't understand."

Sam's anger drains from him all at once. Too much of the Winchesters' lives are spent causing collateral damage to people they care about. He needs to let Cas know how much he belongs here, how much he really is family, how they will do anything in their power for him if he asks.

"I knew you wouldn't leave unless Dean asked you to. I just couldn't figure out why Dean would. The only reason would be if you somehow posed a threat to me."

Cas glances at Dean and Sam follows his gaze. He knows Cas is looking for confirmation from Dean, and maybe Sam is too. It's one thing to know he and Dean would do anything for each other, but it's another to see it in action, the kind of devastation it wreaks on other people they care about.

Dean nods, looking down at his hands. "I'm sorry, Cas."

Sam's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He feels like he should tell Cas to take a picture to commemorate the moment, but he thinks maybe Cas gets it. He blinks, alternating looking at Dean's hands and his face, like he's trying to memorize what a contrite Dean looks like. 

Sam's anger comes back in a swift, sharp gut punch. Dean's contrite about kicking Cas out but he won't even admit he was wrong about giving an angel permission to squat in Sam's body. He's tired, though, this second wave of anger not as strong or as violent as the first, already cresting and becoming an undertow to his general frustration with Dean. He gives up, dropping the argument in the hopes that maybe Dean and Cas can have a real conversation while Cas is awake. He throws up his hands and leaves them in the main room, squeezing Cas's shoulder on his way to the showers. 

He strips and stands under the water until he feels like he can't breathe, the steam cloying and sticky in his lungs. He feels heavy, like he absorbed all the water into his skin, and he's sluggish as he heads to his bedroom, poking his head in to Kevin's room to see if he's okay and getting a thumbs up and sad smile. Kevin understands Sam in ways he doesn't even want to think about; no one should understand him, least of all a nineteen-year-old former mathlete. Maybe someday he and Kevin will talk about it, or maybe he'll just keep working at a way to set Kevin free, get him out before he digs himself in so deep there's no climbing out.

Cas and Dean's doors are both open which Sam figures is a good sign – they must still be in the map room, talking. Then he hears murmuring, the soft burbling sound that is Dean singing inappropriate songs as lullabies. 

He stops outside Cas's door, weirdly nostalgic for when he was the one wrapped around Dean like that, when it was him Dean sang Led Zeppelin to. He has an urge to crawl in, curl himself around Cas and Dean both, and he steps into the room before he can overthink it. If it startles Dean he'll never know, he just keeps singing, looking up at Sam with a questioning smile on his face. 

Sam tucks himself behind Cas – on top of the covers because the last thing he wants is to spontaneously combust – and throws an arm over him, hooking two fingers into the crook of Dean's elbow. Cas waits until he's settled before craning his neck around and smiling at him. Dean just keeps on singing.

~~~


	4. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, with more cuddling!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clavally deserves all the credit for the plot of this thing - I let her choose her own adventure, and she wanted more cuddling, of the non-angsty Winchester brothers variety, so here we go. Hold on to your hats!

~~~

Sam wakes up burning hot and achy. He keeps his eyes closed, taking a minute to untangle the sensations going on, the feel of anyone else in bed with him unfamiliar these days. He's on his back, someone pressed tightly against his right side, with an arm across his stomach. He cracks an eye open to look, and it's not just one arm, but two – and it takes all the control he has in the world not to sit up and start freaking out. Cas is plastered to his side, head resting in the cup of Sam's shoulder like it belongs there, and Dean is tucked in behind Cas, on top of the covers, fully dressed, down to his boots, and his arm's slung over Cas _and_ Sam. His face is tucked into the back of Cas's neck, smooth and guileless in sleep, and there's a lot Sam can forgive Dean, seeing him like that. 

Dean's become less of a light sleeper since they moved into the bunker; Sam wonders if he can slip out from underneath them and head back to his room, where the air temperature isn't 100° and he's not breathing two other people's second-hand oxygen. He starts with his hips, sliding his ass sideways out from under Dean and Cas's arms – Dean's twisted underneath Cas's somehow – but he doesn't even shift half an inch before Cas's arm locks on, squeezing him tightly. "Stay," Cas says, and before Sam can even think of a response, Cas adds a sleepy, "please," and Sam sighs, settling back onto the bed.

He takes stock of the rest of his body, sprawled across most of the bed – he'd gotten better about that with Amelia but his bad habits returned in a hurry when he was back on the road with Dean, a queen bed to himself. His left leg is half off the bed and resting relatively comfortably on the floor. His right is caught between Cas's knees – a little bony, now that Sam's noticing. He brings his left arm down to rest on top of Cas's, partly because his shoulder hurts and partly to keep Cas from tickling if he happens to squeeze in just the right place. No one but his dad's ever found his ticklish spot and Dean has tried, for _years_. 

His right arm, he realizes when he flexes his forearm a little, is wedged between Dean and Cas. That would be weird enough – he's basically got his arms around Cas – but someone is holding his hand, fingers interlocked with his, and he knows exactly where Cas's hands are (one under the small of his back), so that means it has to be Dean. 

He lets his body lull him back to sleep, the warm stretch of Cas against his side and Dean's hand in his, comforting even in its oddity.

~~~

He almost wakes up a little while later, there's an undulating shift to the bed, but he's in that place between waking and dreaming and he sinks back in before his mind really wakes up enough to care about what's going on.

~~~

When Sam finally opens his eyes, well-rested and heavy from hours of being dead to the world, he's more than a little surprised to see it's just him and Dean in the bed. Dean's lying on his right side, his back to Sam, and he's half-undressed. His boots are off, and his heavy flannel. Both of them are still lying on top of the covers, bunched high between them where Cas must've wriggled out of bed. Dean's only got a t-shirt and jeans on now and he's hunched in on himself like he's cold. 

Sam only hesitates for a second before shifting over six inches and wrapping himself around Dean's back like he did to Cas last night. He can feel how cool Dean's skin is, and Dean relaxes back against his chest, still asleep. Sam's just high enough up the bed that his head is above Dean's – he could grind his chin into the top of Dean's skull if he wanted to. He never knows what to do with his arm when spooning, though, and he settles it on his waist, resting his wrist on Dean's ribs. Dean reaches up and grabs his hand, lacing his fingers through Sam's and pulling Sam's arm over the top of him like a blanket.

Sam lies awake for a long while, half-draped over Dean, trying to figure out if this should be weird. There's not a lot of normal in their lives to compare it to, and it's not like it's awkward or makes him unhappy. They used to cuddle like this all the time when they were little. Well, Dean was always the big spoon back then, but it's only fair that Sam gets some payback for that, now that he's taller than Dean. Somehow he gets teased for that just as much as he was teased for being short when he was younger. Doesn't really seem fair.

He's thinking so hard he misses the fact that Dean's rubbing their clasped hands against his chest. He looks down and sees it's right under Dean's tattoo – right over his heart. Not asleep after all. It's pretty much the last thing he expected from Dean: cuddling voluntarily while awake, letting Sam know it's okay, it's all okay. 

_Stupid stubborn bastard_ , Sam thinks, worming his right arm under Dean so he can really pull him in close, let him know that he gets it, he always has. Sam has never been a whole person without Dean either, but he knows it's different for him, it will always be different for him. The terrible thought that he'll have to prepare Dean for his own death more than he'll have to prepare himself, whenever it might happen, makes him hold on tighter. Dean doesn't complain, just squeezes Sam's fingers and starts humming _Bring It On Home_. 

~~~

Dean is still humming when Cas and Kevin come clattering in with over-burdened trays of pancakes, bacon, yogurt, fruit, and juice. Bacon's always been a staple of their breakfast repertoire, but the pancakes are becoming a new one fast. Turns out Kevin's mom taught him how to make them when he was eleven and he's perfected the art of explaining it to other people. Sam's never seen Kevin flip a single flapjack, but he'd watched as Kevin talked Cas through his first batch, and Cas's pancakes are even better than Dean's. 

Neither one of them even blink at him and Dean wrapped up together, and Dean rolls out of his arms easy, like he wasn't just doing the least manly thing anyone has ever caught him doing. Or maybe he's just not embarrassed about it, which would be weirder than the cuddling itself. But welcome, Sam thinks, especially because while he doesn't miss sex that much, he does miss curling up with someone now and then, and it'd be nice if they could do that once in a while and not have to get all defensive about it. 

Dean stands, giving Sam a shove toward the other side of the bed. "Get up, sleepyhead," he says, tugging on the covers until they're kind of straight on his side. "Smooth the blankets down over there so we can all sit on the bed."

Sam frowns at the order, but does what he's told. It's easy enough to tug the bedclothes straight so the ratty duvet is covering the sheets. Cas and Kevin set the trays down in the middle of the bed and they huddle together over them, eating with their fingers and getting syrup everywhere. Cas and Sam gleefully dip bacon in the leftover syrup on the pancake plate and Dean eats six pancakes rolled up like burritos, wiping his sticky fingers on Kevin's pajama pants. 

"Gross," Kevin says, but he's smiling, a fairly uncomplicated smile, as Kevin's smiles go. He flicks juice at Dean's face and Sam has to be the voice of reason before they all end up wearing breakfast.

And then Cas pours syrup in his hair and all hell breaks loose. 

~~~

One of the reasons Sam's been hesitant to call the bunker home is the showers. He likes them – a lot, if he has to admit it, even just to himself – but they're in a locker room type setting that means that sometimes you end up showering with someone else. It's not like he's not used to locker rooms, or showering with his brother, even. It's just that while the showers really are perfect – adjustable everything, including height of the shower head – he feels vulnerable, showering in a big, empty space like that. He doesn't carry his weapons around with him inside the bunker anymore (except his boot knife, but it's a boot knife! The whole point is to always have it on you), but if he did, they'd be all the way over on the benches, out of reach if he needed them in an emergency.

He leans back, letting the water cascade over his face, blocking out the sound of Dean trying to snap his towel at Cas. Dean's always been lousy at towel snapping and Sam thought it was probably because he always cut PE if he could (and of course he could, he was a master at cutting class by thirteen) and wouldn't have played sports unless there was a demon coach or werewolf quarterback.

He lathers up his hair again – third time has _got_ to be the charm, there's no way maple syrup can stand that much shampoo – and watches Cas try to defend himself from Dean's terrible towel snapping. He grabs the end of the towel and reels Dean in, a big, pleased grin on his face. He wrestles the towel away from Dean and throws it to Sam. Dean comes after it, but Sam just raises his arm over his head, and Dean rolls his eyes. Sam doesn't use his height to his advantage often, but it's always fun to remind Dean he's not really the big brother anymore. Dean sizes him up, looking like he might try something that could only spell falling down in the showers, so Sam hands the towel off to Kevin, and Dean drops his pursuit altogether. 

Apparently Kevin _didn't_ skip PE, because he gets the towel damp, twists it up tight, and snaps Dean hard enough on the ass to give him a welt. Cas lets out a delighted peal of laughter and Sam laughs too, more at Cas than Dean, though the surprised look on his face is priceless. 

~~~

Sam's usually the first one out of the shower, mostly out of habit. By the time he'd started caring about hygiene, Dean had started running out their hot water on a regular basis; if Sam didn't get up early enough to jump in first, he was taking a cold shower and shivering his way to school. Dean wasn't about to be left without hot water either, though, so if Sam took more than five minutes, Dean was banging on the door, bitching at him to get the hell out already.

Today he stays, letting the unlimited supply of hot water sluice down over his body. He thinks this could become his new habit, standing under the water until his skin becomes all soft and wrinkly. Kevin'd run out of the showers about two seconds after he got Dean – smart kid – and Cas followed pretty close on his heels. Dean hadn't really showered because he was too busy being a jackass, so he took a while to soap up and rinse off, but he didn't hang around, and didn't say anything when it was obvious Sam was just standing under the spray, either. He stays for a long while, keeping the water warm but not hot, and doesn't think about anything except how nice it is to be surrounded by warmth.

~~~


	5. Acquittal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for Kevin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more to this, but it's all going into later chapters because I need a damn Kevin Tran fix-it right now, and this massively canon-divergent AU is the best I can do (remember I started this when, like, after 9.03? Something like that.).

~~~

It's Cas that convinces them to let Crowley go. 

"Let me see if I understand this," Cas says, and it's not the first time Sam thinks he's been hanging around Dean _way_ too much, considering how quickly he's picked up sarcasm. "Abbadon keeps attacking you because you have Crowley." Dean looks uncomfortable – and he should, considering what Abbadon said to him, but seriously. Not even Dean is that high on her list – not compared to taking over hell. "And Crowley _wants_ to take Abbadon down."

Sam shrugs and nods. That's the long and short of it. 

"So let him go. Pitting Crowley against Abbadon will keep them preoccupied so we can concentrate on the angels."

Sam glances at Dean, trying to get a read on how he feels about letting Crowley go. He's still not sure why Dean kept him around in the first place, except that he was hedging his bets, thinking maybe he could still deal for Sam's life. Doesn't matter now – Crowley's lost his usefulness to them in the bunker, and getting Abbadon off their back will give them time to concentrate on the other end of the spectrum.

They sign a truce because Crowley has them by the balls and he knows it, so they can't get any concessions out of him. Cas and Sam both check over every word before all five of them sign. They drive Crowley in circles for two days and deposit him only 600 miles from the bunker, in Las Vegas, New Mexico. Dean thinks this is hilarious. Sam is inclined to agree, though trying to explain to Cas takes a lot of the funny out of it. 

~~~

Working the angel case is a serious bitch. With Garth MIA, they're rebuilding the hunter networks slowly, friends of friends passing on information about angels and heaven and letting them know the Winchesters are working on it. 

They're working hard, too. Sam digs through every book and file in the library for anything that mentions spells of the magnitude Metatron worked or has anything to do with an angel's grace. There's enough to cover one of the tables, books and files piled high, and he, Cas, and Dean sit around, going through them with a fine tooth comb while Kevin stares down at the angel tablet for hours. 

Cas usually starts drooping first, his head nodding over whatever he's reading. Sometimes he snorts himself awake and their laughter chases him to bed. Sometimes he'll fall asleep with his chin on his chest and Dean will shake him and march him to bed himself. Either way, Dean's next off, even though he doesn't usually look at all tired.

Sometimes Sam will knock off early, follow the two of them to Cas's room and curl up behind Cas while Dean sings. Sometimes he'll stay up late and the doors to both of their bedrooms will be closed, and Sam will flop on his own bed. Sometimes he'll work through until morning, and Dean will come drag him to bed, pushing him into Cas and curling up behind him, always grabbing for his hand. He wakes up alone, but he doesn't mind; he rests better when he has room to stretch, but he likes falling asleep with Cas and Dean there. 

Kevin's seen them all in just about every variation of snuggling that exists; for whatever reason they leave the door open if there's more than one of them in a room. It's Cas's bed most often; he's first to bed so they just end up there. Sometimes Sam'll see Cas curled up in Dean's bed, like he got lonely in the middle of the night and went to find Dean. Sam doesn't usually crawl in with them on Dean's bed – he hates that memory foam crap – but he almost always will on Cas's. Sometimes he'll go to bed alone and wake up with an armful of Dean, or Cas, or Dean and Cas. 

He doesn't think much about it most of the time, but when he does, a creeping sadness comes over him. He's sure that his near-death – the fact that he wanted to make it permanent – is what is driving Dean. Well, that and the fact that Dean's pretty touch-starved, and has been for a long time. 

Then he remembers that it started with Cas and thinks maybe Dean is just trying to make up for being a dick.

Whatever the reason, it's something they don't talk about. They're not avoiding it, exactly, not in the awkward, tense, Winchester way of ignoring the elephant in the room, they're just… not uncomfortable. If Kevin had looked at them askance, or if any of them had been embarrassed at any point, Sam is sure they would have stopped. He sometimes wonders, when he wakes up in a bed with his brother and his brother's ex-angel, why he doesn't feel weird about it. Then he decides he doesn't care, as long as it stays not-weird. 

He looks down at the file in his hands, the same one he's been "reading" for the last half an hour. Cas and Dean have been gone for a couple of hours now and Kevin's asleep on the table, drooling a little puddle next to the tablet. Sam nudges him and he starts awake, sitting up and looking around quickly. "Shit," he says. "I was dreaming about pancakes."

Sam laughs and tugs on Kevin's sleeve. "Come on, let's call it a night." Kevin nods and gets up, rubbing the drool off the table with his sleeve. He puts the angel tablet into the top drawer of the writing desk ("you can't just leave the angel tablet sitting in the middle of the table!" he'd squawked one night when they'd been trying to herd him to bed) and Sam puts a hand on his shoulder to steer him to the sleeping rooms. Dean's room is empty and dark as they walk by. Sam knows what he's going to see when they walk past Cas's room – the two of them curled up together somehow, it's never the same two nights in a row – and he's right. Cas is on his back and Dean is curled up next to him, his back to Cas's side, his head resting on Cas's outstretched arm. Sam doesn't even realize he's staring until Kevin softly says, "Good night," from twenty feet down the hallway, at the entrance to his room.

Sam turns in time to catch something on Kevin's face – something complicated but at least half sad, and he moves past Cas's room to catch Kevin before he closes his door. "You okay?" Sam asks, and Kevin nods, a little frantically.

"I just…" His gaze slides away from Sam, slips across the room to skitter across the bed, the desk, the dresser. "I miss my mom."

Sam breathes in slowly. He knows Dean thinks she's dead or worse, but they've been looking for her in between all the heaven research. They haven't told Kevin. They don't want to get his hopes up; it's not likely they'll be able to find her. 

Sam gets a glimpse of how it must feel to be Dean, because he would do almost anything to make things okay for Kevin, to protect him from all the crap that's not likely to ever stop coming. He grabs Kevin and tugs him in quickly for a hug, before he can resist. Kevin hugs him back, fiercely but only for a moment, and steps back into his room, shooing Sam out by closing the door on him. "Night," Kevin says, just before the latch clicks home.

Sam stands in the hallway for a long time, caught between continuing down the hallway to his room and going back to Cas's. Before he can make up his mind, Dean pokes his head out of Cas's room. He takes one look at Sam, grabs his hand, locking their fingers together, and drags him to Cas's bed. 

~~~


	6. Additions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bunker gets a few new residents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this has gone so far AU. Basically AU split off from episode 9.03. This was supposed to be the last, but it's currently at 8k and looking like it'll be at least another 10k, so I'm splitting it up a little and posting this as a chapter, the final chapters yet to come. Probably in another few weeks, it's coming along but there's a surprisingly high amount of plot and Dean-wrangling going on.
> 
> Also! Totally kripked about Mrs. Tran, woooooooooo! Wish I had posted this _before_ the most recent episode aired.

~~~

Garth calls them from West Virginia. The utter surprise on Dean's face when he gets the call gives away that it's something big, but he doesn't explain what's up until they're on the road and Cas is stuck on Kevin babysitting duty back at the bunker.

"Garth has Kevin's mom," Dean says, once they've waved goodbye and hit the road. "Says he was tracking her when he got caught by Crowley's goons."

The shock hits Sam like a punch to the chest. He can't breathe, his emotions suspended between joy and disbelief. "She's alive?"

Dean nods curtly. "He said she was pretty messed up, but he didn't say how." 

Sam takes a deep breath and lets it out loudly. "So how'd they get out?"

"Crowley recalled all his henchmen," Dean says bitterly, with a low, unhappy chuckle. "Apparently they just left everyone to starve to death, but Garth was with it enough to slip his cuffs and get everyone out."

"How many?"

Dean glances across the car at Sam, his mouth set in a grim line. "Couple dozen."

The war between disbelief and joy is over and disbelief has morphed into despair. Twenty people Crowley's been torturing for who knows how long, and two of them were good friends. "Anyone else we know?"

Dean shrugs. Sam knows he's grasping for straws; Dean hadn't talked to Garth that long before they hit the road. It makes him sick, the weight of how badly they failed so many people – including Kevin – churning in his stomach.

~~~

Garth looks like shit. He was a skinny guy before, but now he looks like death warmed over, paper-thin skin pulled over his skeleton so tight it looks like it might snap. Mrs. Tran isn't any better, but there's a warm light in her eyes. Sam mistakes it for being happy to see them, surprised when she slaps his face hard. To Dean's credit, he steps up and takes his slap like a man. 

After the slaps, she hugs them both in turn, and every protective instinct Sam has makes him want to wrap her up in a blanket and feed her soup until she doesn't look pale and gaunt anymore. 

They high-tail it back to the bunker and settle Garth into one of the sleeping rooms to give Kevin and his mom some time. They put him across the hall from Kevin, two doors down from Sam. He climbs under the covers and they take turns bringing him whatever he asks for. Dean brings food and Sam gets stuck reading out loud to him while Dean runs out to buy a noise machine – prolonged silence makes Garth curl up and dart his eyes back and forth.

Kevin takes care of his mom and they make sure they're around for him, but don't push. Kevin's better about asking for help than he used to be. Dean starts looking up hearty soup recipes and Cas gets surprisingly good at chopping vegetables. They keep odd hours, falling into bed and sleeping hard when they can't take any more, and their sleep schedules get all out of whack. Sam stays up most of the night, sleeping away his mornings. Cas goes to bed early, rising before dawn and usually sending Sam off to bed when he wakes up. Dean falls back into hunter mode, taking four hour snatches of sleep whenever he can get them – in the afternoon on the couch, most days. 

Linda's surprisingly resilient, bustling around the bunker after a couple of days, cleaning and cooking and fussing over Kevin when he's not actively working on the tablet. He grimaces a lot but it's obvious he loves the attention.

Garth takes longer. He only gets up to shuffle to the bathroom and basically stays in bed for two weeks straight. They bring him food and books and games and movies and when he finally emerges for dinner one Thursday night, showered and shaved and looking a little less like Death, or maybe Death's kid, they scrap the crappy pizzas they ordered and Dean and Linda cook a mix and match feast with just about all the edible food left in the bunker. 

They settle into a new routine pretty quickly after that, all of them slowly inching toward being okay again, the bunker one big clubhouse for the seriously fucked-up.

~~~

Linda and Kevin find some way to shop on the internet. Not just DVDs and flannel shirts, either (and really, how many flannel shirts does Dean _need_ , anyway?), but furniture and electronics and really expensive pots and pans for the kitchen. Linda orders a set of cooking knives that are probably sharper than the bunker's regular hardware. Garth cuts himself on one pretty good, and Linda just tuts and bandages his thumb with a smile, like he's one of her kids, too. Maybe he is. Maybe they all are, now.

What the credit card fraud and black Friday binging mean, though, is that they have a TV room. Sam doesn't have any idea what a room like this might be called in a normal home, but it's really just the TV room. There's a 42 inch flat screen hanging on the wall, with the sofa, loveseat, and La-Z-Boys in a circle around it. There are beanbag chairs, too (apparently a favorite of Cas's), so they can all pile in and watch whatever might be on the boob tube. 

It becomes a ritual – they all crowd in after dinner and take turns deciding what to watch. Sam never bothers to pick because he's not in it for the TV, and Dean has whining down to an art form, so they watch a lot of Dr. Sexy, spaghetti Westerns, and movies where things either go fast or go boom. 

They all seem to need the reassurance of basic human touch, because they scrunch in close to each other in every combination to keep each other warm. Sam and Dean run hot, so usually they have a couple hangers on each. 

Tonight Sam ends up with Kevin leaning against his side with his legs dangling over the arm of the loveseat and Cas in a beanbag, resting his back against Sam's shin. Meanwhile, Dean has Linda leaning in on one side and Garth on the other. 

Linda picks Die Hard, and Dean approves, steamrollering right over Kevin's complaints that the movie is _ancient_. They make it through the first one and half of the sequel before people start rolling out of the room, off the couches and loveseats and beanbags as their eyelids start to droop. When it's down to just him and Dean, Sam moves to the couch, curling up and settling his head on Dean's thigh. He used to fall asleep like this a lot when he was little, when trying to fall asleep without dad in the motel meant all kinds of nightmares. He falls asleep in the middle of Die Hard 3, Dean's fingers absently combing through his hair.

~~~

Between the weird sleeping schedules and all the family cuddling in the TV room, he hasn’t shared a bed with Cas and Dean in weeks. Maybe more than a month. He would have forgotten about it completely, but when Dean shoves at his shoulder and says, “time for bed, Sammy, or your back’ll kill you in the morning,” he feels unsure, for the first time since they started… whatever it is. 

Dean’s behind him as they make their way from the TV room to the sleeping rooms, not touching, just making sure Sam doesn’t run into anything. Sam doesn’t know where to go. He’s not sleeping on Dean’s crappy mattress, so he walks right by Dean’s room, but Cas’s door is open, and Sam hesitates just enough for Dean to take one extra step and end up uncomfortably close. He’d wonder why Dean didn’t go into his own room except he knows Dean is playing big brother and will see Sam tucked into bed before crashing himself.

He glances in at Cas, who is shivering even though he has four blankets on him, and half-turns to look over his shoulder at Dean. Dean shrugs. Sam hesitates another half-second and hates himself for it. He wouldn’t have hesitated before. 

Half a second turns into two, three, five, and he realizes that whatever this was before, it’s awkward now, and they’re not likely to get it back. He turns to head to his bedroom, but Dean’s hand on his arm stops him. He turns to look down at Dean’s hand and then up at Dean’s face, and he can see all the same questions reflected in Dean’s eyes, but doubt doesn't sit well with Dean. When Dean shifts his hand down Sam’s arm and links their fingers together, pulling him into Cas’s room, he's not surprised. They climb in on either side of Cas and feel him relax between them.

~~~

The door is standing wide open in the morning, and Sam looks out involuntarily as he hears people go by. Kevin wanders by at his typical slouchy pace. Garth stops to glance in at them, his eyes curious but not judgmental, and he lifts a hand when he notices Sam’s eyes are open. Sam smiles and waves back. 

He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop; waiting to see if Linda’s going to be okay, but he falls back asleep without seeing or hearing her. When he wakes up the next time, Dean is gone and Cas has turned over to sprawl himself half across Sam's chest. Sam kisses the top of his head and scoots out from under him, tucking the blankets around Cas to trap the body heat. 

~~~

Normally when a case drags on like this, Dean forces them to take breaks. Makes them take smaller cases to get their minds off it or take a mini-vacation – usually driving to a concert he wants to see. Before, this meant they got a new motel room, and sometimes all they really needed was a change of scenery and a new stable of women for Dean to try his wiles on. 

The bunker, while Sam wasn't looking, has really become _home_ for them. Not just him and Dean, but Cas, Kevin and Linda, and Garth. He thinks they're the reason he doesn't feel claustrophobic, doesn't have that itch under his skin to change the scenery. 

Whatever it is, he likes it and doesn't want it to change. The little pieces of comfort they've carved out are precious to him, and when he sees Linda fussing over Kevin or Dean teaching Garth better fighting techniques or Cas explaining the Enochian alphabet to them all, he wants to gather them all up in his arms and never let go.

What he does instead is touch them all a lot. He and Dean have never been touchy-feely kinds of people, so allowing Garth a hug when he feels like it, mussing Kevin's hair, or kissing the top of Linda's head while she's teaching Dean all the cooking tricks she knows, these are all things that become normal. Also normal is sleeping with Cas and Dean, back to the way they were before. 

It's not that he feels happy – there's too much history behind him for that – but he's content. They've created something for themselves that fills a void Sam didn't know he had, one that might have made things with Dean easier, if they could have found a way to have this sooner. He doesn't dwell on that. He can't.

~~~


	7. Agitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets restless.

~~~

They fall back into their previous sleeping routine with ease, except this time, it always seems to be Cas's bed they find themselves in. Sam hasn't worked out why, but he's purposely not examining this whole situation particularly closely, so he lets it go. He's more concerned that they haven't seen or heard Linda, and that matters to him. He knows there's nothing wrong with what they're doing – he can feel that part of it, knows it in his bones – but he's sure it doesn't look normal to someone who doesn't know them the way they know each other.

It's not really outside-the-bunker normal either, but Sam doesn't really care. It's just that he respects Linda and wants her to understand. 

Sam shakes it off and rolls over, curling up next to Cas, feeling Dean follow and nestle in along his back. Besides, he thinks, Linda's an early riser. She has to have seen them. And if she has a problem, she wouldn't hesitate to speak her mind. 

~~~

The sleeping schedule has shifted a little; settled. Cas is still first to bed, earlier and earlier these days, but Dean doesn't seem to feel the need to follow him right away. He stays and helps with research, or watches TV while Sam's got three books in his lap (in the TV room, because he may be researching Metatron's spell, but he's not going to miss family cuddle time), but he hangs out until his usual bedtime, which, for most of their adult lives, has always been shortly _after_ Sam, but is now just before. 

Dean wanders off some time after midnight and that's usually just enough of a distraction to pull Sam out of the research. He makes his notes for the night and puts his bookmarks in, following Dean to Cas's room after half and hour or so, just enough time for Dean to get settled.

Dean is awake when Sam gets in, trying to wrangle a recalcitrant Cas into a more comfortable position. Cas has a pinched frown on his face and is shifting restlessly under Dean's heavy arm. Sam slips off his shoes and climbs in on the other side of Cas, pulling him in along his side, and Dean tucks himself behind, throwing his arm over them both. Cas makes a small noise in his sleep and finally seems to still.

Sam can get tunnel vision when he's researching hard, but even with the eighteen-hour days and crashing at two a.m., he's noticed something is going on with Cas that he can't quite place. He thrashes in his sleep sometimes, which they all do, and a few nightmares are nothing the Winchesters haven't handled before. They can take the bumps and bruises that come with violent awakenings in the middle of the night.

Cas is having nightmares every time he sleeps, though, and he seems to be unsettled when he's under, so even the usual comfort of having them nearby doesn't seem to calm him. Sam does what he does best and puts it out of his mind. Cas is probably working out some new thing about being human. It's always a struggle but he likes to try and work it out on his own before he comes to one of them and asks.

~~~

After three more nights of finding Dean and Cas in disarray in Cas's bed, and Sam starts to worry. The covers are always all rucked up, like they had a wrestling match before settling in to sleep. It's always Dean holding onto Cas, too – which is weird because Cas is the one that gloms on most of the time. 

Tonight he has to crawl into bed behind Dean because he's chased Cas clear across the bed and there's no room for Sam on Cas's other side. 

Dean comes awake just enough to grab Sam's arm and pull it over himself and Cas, and sure enough, Cas wriggles under the weight like he's trying to get away. It pings Sam's worry about Cas, but it's late, so he just splays his fingers on Cas's chest and pulls him back in.

~~~

Linda's in the kitchen the next morning when Sam comes in to grab a bowl of cereal. Either she got up really early or hasn't gone to bed yet. She doesn't look like a zombie, so he guesses she's just a very early riser.

"Morning," he says, setting his bowl down on the counter and opening the box of Rice Chex. 

"Good morning," she says, and takes his bowl away from him. "Put that away."

He blinks, but dutifully puts away the cereal. You don't mess with Linda when she gives you an order.

When he gets back to the counter, Linda's put a bowl of oatmeal down, covered with a sprinkling of brown sugar and a bunch of dried fruit. Sam gives her a big smile, groaning internally because he hates oatmeal. 

He sets it down on the table and grabs a glass of milk to wash it down with. He hasn't taken two bites before Dean wanders in and is given the same treatment. He laughs because the only person that hates oatmeal more than Sam is Dean, and Dean has the same obedient response to Linda that Sam did. 

Dean gets a glass of orange juice – Sam's sure he's going to regret that once he starts eating – and sits across from him at the table as they dig in.

Linda sits down on Dean's side of the table with a mug of coffee and some toast. "No oatmeal for you?" Dean asks, and Linda chuckles. 

"No, I hate oatmeal." She beams at them both, halfway through their bowls of brown-gray sludge. Sam can't help smiling back. Dean side-eyes her but keeps at it, spooning up the oatmeal mechanically, grimacing when he drinks his juice.

"Is Cas all right?" she asks around the rim of her coffee mug. "He seems…" She struggles to find a word, eventually settling for, "…unwell."

Sam exchanges a look with Dean. They've been avoiding it, but she's right. Something's wrong with Cas. "We know," Dean says. "Nightmares are worse and he's sleeping a lot."

Sam holds his breath. If Linda's going to say anything, now is the time, but she just nods. "He's not eating much, either." 

Dean sighs heavily. He's always taken it personally when anyone around him is upset or angry or sad. It's both one of his most endearing traits and one of his most frustrating. "I'm sure he's just frustrated. We haven't caught a break in a long time."

Linda tilts her head noncommittally. "Just keep an eye on him. We don't want him to do anything stupid."

~~~

Research amps up after that. Dean's no slouch with the books, but it's not his favorite pastime, so he usually leaves it to Sam, unless it's urgent. Garth is a little rusty, and has to be taught the Men of Letters filing system, but he jumps in and is quicker on the uptake than Sam would've given him credit for. 

Sam's not sure what Kevin's doing differently, but the intensity with which he stares at the tablet is a little scary. The only one who doesn't seem worried about him is Linda, and when they press her about it she smiles and says, "You should've seen him prepare for the SATs."

Cas has his nose in books most of the day, but Sam gets the feeling that he's not actually comprehending anything. He's sure to re-read anything Cas was looking at after he goes to bed. Dean's taken to following on Cas's heels again, so that gives Sam a couple of hours of stress-free reading time before he tidies up his notes and joins them, pulling Cas in close, wrapping him up so he can't struggle. It must make him feel safe; he relaxes once he's got the Winchesters in close.

~~~

It turns out that the reversal of Metatron's spell is impossible. Kevin tells them over breakfast and Cas excuses himself from the table.

Kevin looks like he would've given anything not to have told them, and Linda wraps an arm around him and squeezes. Dean takes a last swig of coffee, smiles at Kevin and Linda, and gets up to follow Cas.

"I wish there was something I could do," Kevin says, and Sam gives him a quick, sad smile.

"Keep looking," Sam says, stuffing one last piece of pancake in his mouth before following Dean and Cas. "There's always another way."

~~~

Cas spends three days in bed and Sam and Dean take turns bringing him food and curling around him. Sam has no idea when they learned this kind of patience; their father would've told them to get over it and start working on another solution. Dean's defaulted to that attitude for most of his adult life, but he seems to be soft on Cas, willing to let him grieve – for a little while, at least. 

~~~


	8. Acknowledgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie asks. Sam does, too.

~~~

Kevin comes skidding into the room on the fourth morning, gripping the tablet tight in his hands. "I've got it!" he yells, and jumps on the bed with them. 

They all sit up and crowd around Kevin as he reads something off the tablet, slowly, in Enochian. Cas starts nodding, and then smiling. "Yes, that is perfect!" 

Kevin smiles at Sam and Dean, who must've been looking kind of like the slow kids in class and explains. "Metatron wasn't lying when he said there was a way to close the gates of Heaven. He just hadn't been planning to do it himself." 

Cas makes a noise, something halfway between a whine and a wail, and Sam throws an arm around his shoulders for support. 

Kevin nods at him and continues. "The spell he used tore the wings off the angels, making it impossible for them to get to Heaven." Kevin grinned. "Heaven is still wide open – it's just devoid of angels except Metatron."

"Okay," Dean says slowly, and Sam can feel the impatience he's holding in check like a physical force. "So how are _we_ going to get the angels into Heaven before we slam the gates?" 

"Limbo," Kevin says.

Cas shivers, and they all look at him. "It's a horrible place."

Kevin explains that souls that are not evil enough for Hell or good enough for Heaven go there to await final judgment. Sam and Dean exchange a glance, but keep their thoughts to themselves. "Don't you get it?" Kevin asks. "It's Heaven-adjacent!"

It's not a full plan – they're still trying to figure out how to get the angels to follow them into Heaven without murdering Cas or figuring out their plan to lock them all in, but it all gets put on hold when Charlie comes knocking on their door a week and a half later.

~~~

Sam had expected to see more of Charlie after they moved into the bunker, to be honest. The fact that the only reason she's visiting is because she lost her job just proves that Sam knows a lot less about fitting in to regular society than he thought.

Sure, they've kept in touch, but it was a little surprising how much time a regular job takes up. He's never had one of those sit-at-a-desk, nine-to-five sorts of jobs. They seem exhausting.

Charlie comes in on a Tuesday, and the research stops for the day while they take her in and fuss over her, listen to her story, cook a big dinner, and show her their TV room. They don't ask how long she's staying, but when everyone starts dropping off, Sam walks her to a room a couple doors down from Linda and asks her if she needs anything. She surprise-hugs him, and he happily puts his arms around her and hangs on tight. "Thanks," is all she says, and he doesn't have any clue what for, so he just answers, "You're welcome," because she is welcome to anything they have.

~~~

Charlie fits in seamlessly, taking up a spot in the cooking rotation and usually beating everyone at the who-stays-up-latest game. No wonder she lost her job – she can't have been getting any sleep. 

Her room is directly across from Cas's, so she sees Sam with Cas piled on top of him the next morning, and gives him a little shake of the finger like he's doing something naughty. Then Dean comes back from the bathroom, kisses Charlie on top of the head and crawls in, settling his weight on top of Cas and making it hard for Sam to breathe. She looks shocked, staring at them all for a long while, but Sam just keeps smiling at her and she eventually nods and heads down the hallway, looking for the bathroom or breakfast or something.

He catches her alone later when they do the breakfast dishes, and she's the first person in the bunker to bring it up in conversation.

"So, are you guys all together, together?" she asks, handing him a mug to dry. "Because while I saw the Dean and Cas writing on the wall, I have to say… I hadn't expected the whole puppy pile thing."

"It's not like that," Sam says automatically, though now that he thinks about it, he'd seen the Dean and Cas writing on the wall too. Suddenly everything about them shifts. He thinks about that first night he'd crawled in behind Cas and feels like an intruder. 

"Okay," Charlie says simply, and hands him a handful of silverware. "Just seems like an elegant solution, is all."

An elegant solution to what, Sam's not even sure he wants to know, but it doesn't matter – he knows he's done sleeping with Dean and Cas, and now he has the added burden of trying to make them realize what they want. Cas may be oblivious about it, but Dean is lying to himself, and Sam knows how hard it is to get through to Dean when he's like that. And he has to do it sneakily, because Dean will just dig in his heels if you come at him head on.

He takes a deep breath and blows it out. This is going to suck. 

~~~

Charlie might not be upset about losing her job, but she's clearly looking for _something_ to do, so she organizes and updates the bunker to the 21st century. She takes Dean's meager spreadsheet of artifacts and turns it into a behemoth that Sam can barely look at without his eyes crossing.

He does, though, because he wasn't paying attention when Dean was going through all that stuff, and he has a nagging feeling that he's missing something. She's cross-indexed all the research she can find in the bunker (which is considerable) and then decides they should have a supernatural wiki, so she starts on that project.

Two days into reading through everything on the spreadsheet, Sam finds the answer they've been looking for.

"Cas!" he calls, looking up to see if he's nearby. "Dean!" 

There's a resounding silence, and when he looks down at his watch, it's almost four in the morning. Sam sits up and stretches, closing his laptop for the night, and wanders down to the sleeping rooms, checking in on everyone.

He can't help stopping at Cas's room and looking in at Dean and Cas. They're facing each other, Cas curled in a tight ball, cocooned against Dean’s chest. He knows if he went in, he'd slip in behind Cas, lying mostly on his front but with an arm over the pair of them, like he had some claim to them. He feels like an idiot, not noticing what this was supposed to be, greedily pushing himself into a situation where he didn't belong. 

He gently pulls the door closed and heads to his own room, hoping his sheets aren't too musty from disuse. He's gotten spoiled, not sleeping in questionable motel rooms for months on end.

He lies down, tossing and turning for a while, trying to find any position that doesn't feel cold and empty. Eventually he flops onto his front, spreading out across the whole bed, breathing in measured rhythm, forcing his body to recognize the old patterns of falling asleep.

~~~

He wakes up the next morning on his back, Cas lying with his head on Sam's shoulder and one of Sam's legs between his bony knees, and Dean on the other side, his back nestled warm against Sam's side, the fingers of Sam's left hand tangled together with those of Dean's right.

He lies there for a while, trying to figure out how Cas became so proficient at wiggling out of the middle without waking him and Dean up. Cas's been able to do it since the beginning, and Sam and Dean are not particularly sound sleepers. Usually Cas isn't _under_ both of them, so that'd probably helped. It doesn't make it easier for Sam, though, because while there is some part of him that wants this, he knows it's not his, and the longer he stays here, the harder it will be to do what he needs to do.

"Don't close the door," Dean mumbles, and Sam looks down at him in surprise. He hadn't known Dean was awake. "Ventilation is for shit – nearly spontaneously combusted, even Cas."

Sam rolls his eyes. Trust Dean to completely miss the point. "Did you ever think that maybe I wanted to sleep alone?"

Dean sits up and turns halfway around, the look of surprise on his face almost enough to make Sam laugh, if his heart wasn't so heavy at what he's giving up. "No," Dean answers. "I just thought…"

Their hands are still linked together, and Sam follows Dean's gaze down to them. He pulls his fingers out of Dean's grasp and uses his newly-freed hands to gently push Cas off of him. Dean's staring at him, the look of surprise morphed into his hurt-angry hybrid. Sam knows it well – whenever Dean's hurt he goes on the offensive, and Sam's seen it enough to know what kind of damage he can do. 

He slides down to the end of the bed and crawls off, not meeting Dean's eyes, though he can feel Dean's laser focus trying to bore a hole in his back. "Better cuddle up – Cas is gonna start shivering in a minute."

He knows this because Dean is usually the first person out of bed and that means Cas flops onto Sam and tries to suck every degree of body heat out of him. It bothers him less in the morning, when a chill has crept into the bunker, but he doesn't have the luxury of sleeping in any more. He's beginning to wonder if he has the luxury of _sleeping_ anymore. Dean and Cas crawled in with him and he hadn't noticed. There's no way for him to stay away from them except not sleeping… or trying to talk Dean into recognizing his relationship with Cas. 

~~~

Dean finds him in the kitchen less than ten minutes later, which is exactly what Sam expected. Sam's in pajamas and bare feet; Dean's showered, dressed, and ready for the day. Sam knows this is his way for gearing himself up to "talk." At least Sam doesn't have to dance around that part of it.

"Dean."

"Sam." 

Dean reaches for the coffee, starts fixing himself a cup. Sam'd left the milk and sugar out – he knows Dean likes to pretend he likes it black, but he'll mix it up if the stuff is right to hand. Sam continues pouring his cereal, letting Dean set the pace for now. When he finishes, he brings the bowl over to where his coffee's getting cold on the bench and tucks in. Dean follows him, sitting across from him at their makeshift kitchen table. 

Sam could time Dean's question down to the second. He knows Dean's been thinking about it all morning, and once he's got the actual words, it's a matter of forcing them out of his mouth. It's an uphill battle, and Sam knows every shoulder twitch and grimace Dean makes on the journey. Finally, he takes a sip of coffee and sets his mug down with finality. Sam puts his spoon in the bowl and waits.

"So, what's _with_ you?" Dean asks. "Suddenly you want to sleep alone?"

It's about what Sam expected. It doesn't really address anything. Trust Dean not to be able to say anything out loud. He shrugs. "I don't want to get in the way."

Dean gives him a confused look. "I know you're a giant, but you know there's plenty of room. Never fallen out of bed yet."

"Not like that," Sam says. "I shouldn't have come in that first night – I didn't see what was really going on–"

"Nothing was going on," Dean says. "It was fine, you coming in."

"No," Sam says, "something was _definitely_ going on, and I got in the way, as usual."

Dean looks confused for another minute, and then his eyes open impossibly wide. "Is that what you think this is?" Dean asks, his voice getting louder. He stands up and paces to the prep tables. "That's not what this is."

Sam rolls his eyes. He's pretty damn sure that's what this is. He stands too, faces Dean so Dean can't get away with talking to his back.

"Sam," Dean says, wiping a hand down his face and looking away. Sam's pretty sure he's going to win this argument by virtue of the fact that he is the only Winchester still alive that can talk about feelings. Dean looks up at him, stubborn determination on his face.

"Listen, Sam."

Dean takes a deep breath and Sam's breath sticks in his throat. He can feel himself leaning forward, hungry for a little truth from Dean.

"I abandoned Cas. I wanted him to know that I wasn't going to do it again." He swallows hard and looks Heavenward like he thinks there might be anybody up there that gives a shit about them anymore. "I didn't know you needed to hear that too."

Sam chokes a little, wanting words to come out but unable to force them. He _doesn't_ need to hear that, and he doesn't _want_ to, either. He wants Dean to respect him and his decisions, and the rage that he'd nearly forgotten boils up and builds in his gut. His words are still failing him, though, and Dean's already moved on, not even knowing how he's just proved how wrong he is about what they are, and what he thought he was saying.

"I know I owe you an apology too," Dean says, looking Sam in the eye like he can feel Sam's anger directed at him from across the room. "I guess I was trying to avoid having to say it out loud."

Sam's forearms hurt, and when he looks down, he can see his fists clenched so tight his hands are entirely white. The desire to punch Dean comes back with a vengeance. "You don't even know what you should be apologizing for," he says, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to release some of the tension in his hands.

"Yes, I do."

Dean moves forward, taking the four steps that bring him within arm's reach. He looks up at Sam, the stubbornness still there, clear in the set of his jaw, the tenseness of his stance.

"I know you want to take a swing," he says, throwing his arms out. "Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better."

Sam closes his eyes. He can't look at Dean or he _will_ take a swing. He knows Dean wants to have it out with fists - they've fought that way since they were kids because it's easier for Dean. Sam opens his eyes and gives Dean a shove, two hands on his chest, sending him reeling back until he's out of the range of temptation.

"I don't want to beat the shit out of you, Dean," Sam says, and silently adds, _you do a good enough job of that yourself._ "I want you to tell me you won't do it again, and I want to be able to believe you."

"You couldn't take me," Dean jokes, and Sam doesn't respond. He doesn't pull a face, he doesn't speak, he just stands still, and lets Dean know he's not going to get out of it that easy. Dean squirms, and that is more satisfying than any punch could have been. 

"I can't say that, Sammy, and you know it." He looks down, lowering his eyes just enough to avoid Sam's. "I know it's selfish. But I can't let you go if there's something I can do to stop it. I don't have it in me."

"Not even if I want to go?" Sam asks. 

"No," Dean answers, raising his eyes, the stubbornness still there and making Sam's hands itch to punch it off his face. "Not even then."

"I was ready, Dean," Sam yells. He can't help it, he has to get through to Dean somehow and this isn't working. It feels like talking to a brick wall.

Dean shakes his head, looking at Sam with his "you'll understand when you're older, Sammy" face and Sam takes two steps forward, dangerously close. 

" _I_ wasn't ready." Dean takes the last step, bringing him back into range of Sam's fists, holding Sam's eyes. Sam can see the tears welling up there, but he's not letting Dean off the hook, he can't, not until Dean understands that it's not his choice. He has to learn to respect Sam's decisions. 

Dean takes Sam's hands in his – well, Sam's wrists because Sam is still clenching his fists tight in an attempt to control himself – and lifts them, pulling them up and resting them on his chest. 

"I'll never be ready," Dean says, covering Sam's clenched hands with his own. "And that's something you're going to have to live with, because I will never let you go if I can help it. "

"Dean," Sam says, giving him a short punch to the shoulder. Dean absorbs it and stays, keeps looking at Sam implacably. Sam closes his eyes. He can't look at Dean when Dean is basically telling him that his choices don't matter. "You don't make me feel special when you talk like that. You make me feel incapable."

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam feels Dean's hands on his face. He lets his head drop forward, the frustration with Dean overwhelming. "Hey," Dean says, wiping his thumb across Sam's cheek, and Sam's rage flares again, Dean treats him like a child, he –

"It's not about your choices." 

Sam opens his eyes, taking a deep breath to contradict his stupidly stubborn brother. 

"It's not," Dean says before Sam can get his words out. Sam can feel Dean's fingers squeeze the back of his neck and shake, like Sam's a dog he's trying to train some sense into. "I know you're a grown man. I will let you make all the decisions you want. If you want to leave, I'll live with that. I'll let you walk out that door." Dean lets Sam go and turns around, giving Sam his back. His head is down, so Sam knows he's fighting to control himself.

"But leaving is the only way you will have control over your death. Because Sam," Dean says, turning back around and catching Sam's eyes, "when you're incapacitated, I'm your next of kin. It's _my_ decision. And right or wrong, I will always try to save you."

Sam turns around, walking away from Dean and looking for something to punch that isn't Dean's face. Dean is the only person he knows who can be so incredibly selfish and make it sound like he's being some kind of hero. He settles for punching the wall, and the bright scrape of skin against the rough brick takes some of the edge off his frustration. He looks down at his bloody knuckles and huffs out a breath when Dean speaks again.

"It's the choice I'll make, every time. Even when I know it's not what you want. So if you stay, you're just going to have to make your peace with that."

"Sam," a different voice says, and Sam whirls around to see Cas standing in the doorway. Who knows how long he's been there. Sam can feel himself flush. He and Dean don't see eye to eye on a lot of important issues, and this sort of fight is standard for them – but it's still pretty personal, and not something he'd like his friends to overhear.

Cas crosses the room, gently inspecting Sam's injured hand. He drags Sam over to the sink, turning on the water and letting it wash away the blood. It's soothing, the water and Cas's tenderness, and he can feel his frustration slipping into the worn-smooth irritated acceptance of Dean's quirks, even when Dean is in the wrong, because he knows there are some fundamental things about Dean that will never change.

"Don't I have the right to choose my own death?" Sam asks quietly. He doesn't know who he's asking, really, or if maybe it's rhetorical because despite the absolute certainty that Dean is in the wrong, he knows Dean will not change his mind, and the larger decision is now his. Leave Dean and the bunker behind, or accept that the only way he will die is if Dean lets him. Maybe part of him is hoping Cas can help Dean let go enough to respect Sam's wishes in the end. 

Cas looks up at him, smiling sadly. "I can't be upset that you're still here," Cas says. "And I don't have the right to speak to anything else."

And in that moment, Sam knows Dean has won. Cas, the bunker, their makeshift family, it's the only happiness Sam's had in the last couple years, and he can't walk away. 

Cas turns the water off and pats Sam's hand dry with a towel. "Can you promise me one thing?" Sam asks, throwing the question over his shoulder because he doesn't dare look at Dean. If Dean can't promise him this, it might be enough for him to pack up and leave, even the bunker, Cas and Charlie and all of them. _Please._

"If I can," Dean says softly, from right behind him. Sam turns and he's right there, taking Sam's hand out of Cas's and inspecting the damage. Dean has a way of making Sam feel precious, which makes sense as he's also the only one who can truly make Sam feel worthless.

"No more possession. I can't… you can't…" Sam swallows and searches for the right words. "My body is _mine_. No one else in here."

Something makes Sam glance at Cas, and he's not wearing his usual unflappable expression. He looks upset, of all things, but before Sam can ask what's wrong, Dean answers him.

"Yeah, Sammy, I can promise you that." 

The relief is a solid rock in Sam's chest. He looks at Dean and sees the sincerity there. He doesn't believe it one hundred percent – Dean can and will do _anything_ if he's desperate – but he believes Dean's intentions. He can only hope that should Dean be desperate enough to do something that stupid again, Cas will be there to remind Dean of his promise.

"Thank you," Sam says, and means it. 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-ordered the chapters as this fic grew a plot and suddenly the last chapter was going to be twice as long as the rest of it.


	9. Amends

~~~

They haven't finished their discussion about sleeping together, but Winchesters can only handle one emotional discussion at a time, so Sam lets it slide. Besides, now that Cas is here, he can tell them what he found last night.

"I think I have a way to get the angels to follow us," Sam says. The pain on Cas's face is enough to make Sam's heart clench in sympathy. He's been fixing his own fuck-ups for years, so he knows exactly how Cas feels. It's just something about his existence that he's accepted, like Dean's pigheadedness and Cas's unlimited capacity to ask the truly bizarre questions. "The pied piper's flute," he continues, pushing forward. The sooner they complete their plan, the sooner he can wipe that look off Cas's face.

"Isn't that for rats?" Dean asks.

"And children," Sam says. "It depends on what melody you play. We just need to know what the melody for angels is – and a way to get them all close enough to hear it."

"We can use me as bait," Cas says. Sam wants to argue – they didn't bring Cas back to the bunker just to put him in the line of fire – but he's probably right. Dean doesn't look happy about it either, but he's not making the usual "no way" noises, so Sam assumes he feels roughly the same way.

"I need to take care of some things," Cas says, a little mysteriously. "I will need a car."

Sam hadn't been expecting that, and judging by the look on his face, neither had Dean. They'd found the bunker garage while poking around with Charlie, and there are plenty of vehicles in there for Cas to take, if he needs to, but Sam doesn't like the idea of Cas going off alone. "Do you know how to drive?"

Cas nods. "Jimmy does. I can use his knowledge."

Sam glances at Dean. So far, Cas has not been particularly adept at using Jimmy's knowledge of anything. 

"I can drive you," Dean says. "Just say the word."

Cas's mouth sets into a line and Sam can see he's going to argue this one. "Or we could take a test drive," Sam says, trying to sound reasonable. "Make sure Jimmy hasn't forgotten anything."

"Fine," Cas agrees, but he sounds more like Dean when he's pissy than his typical low-key self. "Let's go. I have things to do."

~~~

It doesn't take long to realize that Cas can't draw on any of Jimmy's knowledge about driving – and that Jimmy seems to have hunkered down somewhere Cas can't coax him out. It clearly bothers Cas, but there's a determination and purpose to Cas that Sam hasn't seen in years, and he sets it aside as Sam teaches him the basics of driving, and managing the maps application on the iPhone they got him.

"You sure you want to do this alone?" Sam asks. Whatever it is, Sam doesn't think Cas should do it without backup, but he doesn't want to force the issue. "There are a lot of people out there gunning for you."

"I can take care of myself," Cas says, and Sam's glad Dean isn't around because he wouldn't be able to keep himself from laughing. Cas is hardly helpless, even as a human, but Sam and Dean both have protective streaks about people under their care. 

"I know," Sam says, forcing himself to accept Cas's decision. "We just worry."

Cas tilts his head at Sam. "Please don't." 

Sam chuckles. "That's not actually your call, Cas."

"Well," Cas says, leaning across the car and opening Sam's door for him, "then know that I won't be gone long. I only have a few preparations to take care of."

"Okay," Sam says, climbing out and leaning in before closing the door. "Just be careful."

Cas nods, and Sam shuts the door, watching Cas drive off, over-correcting and hooking jerkily to the right. Sam sighs. He probably won't sleep until Cas gets back.

~~~

They research the pied piper's flute while they wait for Cas to return, trying to figure out what melody might be able to get angels to follow them back into Heaven. Charlie eventually finds the tunes for rats and children in a file in the Men of Letters library. None of them can make heads nor tails of the theory, but they bring it to a local music professor who seems to understand what they were saying.

He uses the formula scribbled in the notes to write out several possibilities, and Dean scowls at him the whole time. Dean's never been good with grey areas. Sam knows he just wants one tune – one that's guaranteed to work. 

Charlie looks more into Limbo, but there's not much in the archives about it, just like there's not a lot about Purgatory. Someday Sam might push Dean to write down his experiences. Likely when Sam's trying to keep Dean occupied during their retirement.

They work themselves to exhaustion, and when Sam finally crashes after thirty-six hours, he goes to bed alone, falling asleep hard.

He wakes up slowly, a half-faded dream still coloring the edges of his consciousness. He can feel Dean curled behind him, one arm thrown possessively over Sam's chest. That brings him fully awake and he opens his eyes, intending to shove Dean off and talk to him about Cas again.

What he sees stops him cold, though. Cas is sitting on the bed, cross-legged, staring down at them both. Sam's not quite sure how he didn't feel that as soon as he woke up – Cas is crackling with power. It raises the fine hairs on his arms. That hasn't happened since the first few times Sam met Cas.

"Cas?" Sam asks, elbowing Dean. Dean mumbles something in annoyance, but he must feel it too, because he sits up a second later, wide awake.

"Good morning," Cas says.

"Did you get your Grace back?" Sam asks. The conflicting feelings he has about that are warring in his chest.

"No," Cas says, a look of anguish crossing his face before it settles back into its typical blank angelic expression. "My Grace has been destroyed. This Grace is… borrowed."

"What?" Dean asks, and Sam's thankful he asked the question because Sam's not sure what the hell Cas means either.

"It doesn't matter," Cas says. "Have you found the melody for angels? Because we must move. We need to get them into Heaven soon."

"Yeah, Cas, we got it, but we don't know where the entrance to Limbo is, or how to get them all to that spot."

"I've taken care of that," Cas says. "It's under a waterfall in Oregon, and we are going to start on the East Coast and drive there – slowly – so all the angels will have a chance to get in line."

"Whoa, hold up there," Dean says. Sam picks up his thought and adds, "there's no way for us to keep you safe from that many angels for that long."

"It will be fine," Cas says, unfolding himself from his seated position and standing next to the bed. "The flute will compel them to follow and not allow them to do anything else."

"But how will they hear it? It only has a range of about a mile," Sam says.

Cas smiles down at him, a warm smile that embarrasses Sam. He's wanted a smile like that from Cas since they met the angel, and now that he's received it, he doesn't want to let Cas go. Even if they all make it through this, which is pretty unlikely, he knows he's going to find some way for Dean and Cas to come to their senses, and he'll never get a smile like that again. 

"Angel radio," Cas says, tapping his temple with one finger. "I will broadcast it. They will have to follow."

Sam looks over his shoulder at Dean and Dean just shrugs. It could work.

"So, Dean and I will take turns driving, you'll play and broadcast, and we'll make a cross-country trip from the East Coast to a waterfall in Oregon. Do you know even how to play the flute?"

~~~

"It's more like a recorder," Kevin says. "Simple. Everybody knows how to play one of these."

Sam glances around the room and there's general head nodding. Charlie tilts her head at him. "Didn't you have to learn recorder in grade school? I had nearly a whole year in music classes learning how to play it."

"Me too," Garth chimes in. 

Linda shrugs her shoulders. "I fiddled around with it when Kevin had to learn."

Sam shrugs. The way they switched schools every few months meant there were gaping holes in his education – unless he filled them himself. Which he had, mostly, except for music and art classes. He never did care for either of those.

"Show me," Cas orders, and a fine shiver goes down Sam's spine.

"Well, we need a recorder to practice on that isn't going to call all the angels to the bunker," Charlie says. "There's a music store in town, I'll run out and get one."

"I'll go with," Dean says, and Sam's sure it's because he and Dean have an unwritten rule that no one goes anywhere alone, not while the angels are around and still looking for Cas.

~~~

Sam heads into the kitchen, needing more coffee to be able to process. The rhythm of setting up the coffee is soothing, and he gets out the milk and sugar, waiting for the first cup to drip into the pot before placing his mug under the stream. Cas comes into the kitchen, and Sam nods a greeting. Cas doesn't respond, just tilts his head as he watches Sam fix up his coffee.

"You all right, Cas?" Sam asks, because he can't help it. This Cas is so very different from the one that's been in the middle of their cuddle pile for the last several months. This Cas is distant and just a little scary. Sam knows Dean can put Cas's Grace out of his mind and pretend Cas is an alien or something, but Sam has never been able to do that. The difference is palpable.

Cas stares at Sam. "I'm better than I have been for a long time, Sam. Thank you for your concern."

Sam has to turn away. Of course Cas would prefer being Castiel, angel of the lord to Cas, human fuck-up with no real ability to make a difference on Earth, much less in Heaven. He can't fault Cas for that. He can't help missing Cas's sweet nature as a human, though, or his willingness to be a more visceral part of their family. He thinks about Dean and wonders if getting the two of them together while Cas is an angel is even a possibility. Cas doesn't seem interested in human things as an angel, never really has had that particular trait, not like Gabriel or Balthazar.

"I'm sorry my Grace distresses you," Cas says, and a shiver goes down Sam's spine. He wonders if Cas is always reading his mind, or if something specific made him do it. "You look… concerned," Cas says, answering Sam's silent question.

"You shouldn't do that," Sam says, sure to catch Cas's eyes briefly. Cas stares when he's an angel, and none of them can hold his gaze for long. "It isn't polite."

"I'm sorry," Cas says, and Sam nods and smiles a little. "But I find that you and Dean rarely say what is on your mind, and there is no time for coddling. This is expedient."

"No," Sam answers, keeping his eyes locked with Cas. "What we choose to say out of all the things we think – that's what's important. We can't help a lot of the thoughts that float through our brains, but the things we choose to voice – those are the ones that count."

Cas nods slowly. "So the fact that you love everyone here and especially your brother is not important? You have never said those words."

Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can't tell if Cas is baiting him or if it's an honest question.

"It's an honest question, Sam, one I need the answer to."

Sam opens his eyes to meet Cas's piercing gaze and is surprised to see some doubt there. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Some things are not easy to say out loud," he starts. He thinks of his father and his limited praise, how little he said about how he loved his sons, but how his actions often spoke louder than words. "Not everything is voiced with words. Especially for me and Dean. Actions count as much as words. Probably more."

Cas nods. He looks relieved. "Being an angel is easier," Cas says, amending it almost immediately with, "in some ways." Then he sighs, shaking his head. "It used to be easier, anyway. The more I understand humanity, the more complex it becomes."

Sam nods. He doesn't understand at all, but he knows Cas is different as an angel, and part of him wishes he could understand why. Part of him is relieved, because it means Cas isn't defenseless anymore. 

"I was never defenseless," Cas says, as if they haven't just had the conversation about mind-reading. "It is different because there is no pain, or comfort. There is no warmth or pleasure or confusion or sorrow. Angels are not exactly emotionless, but emotional sensations are dulled. Physical sensations that caused emotional responses as a human no longer do."

"So what about Gabriel?" Sam asks, blurts the question out so Cas isn't reading what's going on in his brain. "Did he actually enjoy candy bars and porn, or was he just really good at faking it?"

Cas shrugs. "Both. I am more sensitive to the emotional needs of those humans I care about. Gabriel was probably the same, and he was extremely disciplined when it came to evading notice by his brethren – using human traits to do that was a wise choice."

That's not really an answer, but it's probably the closest Sam will get. "You're planning something," he says, because he's had a feeling about that since Cas came back with Grace. He feels… angel-ier than he used to feel.

Cas nods. "I ask that you trust me," he says. 

"Trust you about what?" Kevin asks from the doorway. His coffee mug is in hand, and he's halfway across the kitchen before Cas gets it together to answer.

"I have a plan," Cas says. "It means you'll all be safe."

Kevin snorts and pours his coffee. "Right."

~~~

Garth teaches Cas how to play the recorder – he's the best when they all give it a try – and Cas learns quickly, able to play the tunes in less than an hour. 

"It's a combination of these two," Cas says, and scribbles out a new melody on the bottom of the staff paper from the music theory professor. 

"How do you know?" Dean asks, and Sam glances around the table to see other people's reactions. They all seem interested but trusting. He has a bad feeling about whatever Cas is hiding, but not even Dean seems to have any qualms. That should make him feel better, but for some reason, it makes him feel worse.

"I can feel it resonating with my Grace. The quantum mechanics are actually quite simple." He finishes scribbling and picks up the recorder, playing a tune that is hauntingly beautiful. Not the most beautiful music Sam has ever heard, but somehow the most touching – and strangely familiar. 

"That's not like any of the other tunes," Sam says at the same time Linda says, "That's Beethoven!"

Sam blinks.

"Yes," Cas says. "Some of the most famous human musicians write music that resonates at the frequency of the soul. The soul has many frequencies, though, so there are many musics that resonate." He plays another tune, this one that sounds vaguely like the melodies he practiced earlier, but twisted around a little. It's oddly alien-sounding. Not bad, exactly, but uncomfortable.

Sam watches Cas closely, and for a moment, it seems like he can see Cas's Grace seeping out through his skin, like he's glowing. Then he stops playing and it's lost. Sam's apprehension goes up several notches. There's something about all this that Cas isn't telling them.

Cas turns his head to stare at Sam, and he knows Cas has been mind-reading again. "Sam, Dean. I think we need to gear up, as you say."

"We're coming too," Garth says, and Kevin and Charlie make noises of support.

"No," Dean and Cas say at the same time, exchanging a glance. Dean gives Cas a half-smirk. Cas doesn't even acknowledge it before he looks back around the table and holds Linda's eyes. "Sam and Dean must come with me – they have traveled between dimensions before and I can protect them. I can't protect the rest of you, and angels are ruthless. If anything goes wrong, I will not have your blood on my hands."

"Besides," Sam says, looking at Charlie and Garth. "We'll need tactical support. We need someone in the command center." He can see that they don't buy it, but both of them are willing to defer to him and Dean. It makes him feel unworthy, the completeness of their faith and trust. 

"All right," Dean says, "that's settled. Sam, pack up. We're leaving in ten."

~~~

When Sam throws his duffel in the trunk, there are two other bags in there. One is Dean's favorite duffel, soft and full of clothes like Sam's, but the other rattles and clunks when he shoves it over to make room for his.

"What's the hardware for?" he asks Dean when he climbs in.

Dean shrugs. "Ask Cas, it's his."

Sam looks over his shoulder at Cas in the back seat. "Get us to the East Coast," he says. "And then find us somewhere we can work for a while."

"What, like, a safe house?" Sam asks.

"Yes, like that," Cas says, and leans back in his seat, staring out the window.

Sam looks at Dean, but he just shrugs and turns on the music.

~~~

A few hours after they get on the road they have to decide whether to head northeast or southeast and he and Cas spend some time with the atlas mapping out their route. They're going to start in South Carolina and Dean heads southwest when they get outside St. Louis. 

The drive takes sixteen hours. It's quiet and tense and Dean won't let Sam drive so he dozes through parts of it. His system can only take so much stress these days. 

Cas is silent and brooding in the backseat, still radiating power in that way Sam never noticed until Cas got it back. Of all the ways Cas was different as a human, that was one that never pinged his radar. 

"There," Cas says, pointing to a ramshackle barn with the roof falling in. "That'll be perfect."

Perfect for what, Sam has no idea, but he hopes one of the things they're going to do is get one last night's sleep before he and Dean take turns driving coast-to-coast. Sleeping in the Impala is something he can do, but it's never really that restful. 

They bring the Impala inside; the door's big enough and she's too conspicuous to leave outside. As soon as Dean pulls her in, Cas is standing next to the trunk, impatiently waiting for Dean to pop it. He grabs his duffel and goes to the other end of the barn, pulling out bowls, jars of herbs, and their demon handcuffs. 

"How the hell did he get those?" Sam asks.

"They were in the dungeon," Dean says. "It's not like we keep it locked."

"Sam," Cas says as they approach. "We're going to close the gates of hell before were start our journey."

Sam looks wildly around the barn. "What? How?"

"No," Dean says, bristling and getting in close to Cas. "It nearly killed him the last time." 

"Besides," Sam says, because he has no problem with dying to close the gates of hell, but they just got over this hurdle and he doesn't want to test Dean's resolve, "we don't have time to track down another hellhound and lost soul – we have to take care of the angel problem."

"You don't need to do the trials over again, you just need to complete the last one," Cas says, mixing some of the herbs and a few stones in one of the bowls. "And you won't die this time. I won't let you."

"I don't think you have the mojo to heal me," Sam says. "I think the sacrifice is required."

"Yes," Cas says, putting down the mortar and pestle and gripping Sam's forearms, squeezing them reassuringly. "And you will have to sacrifice, I'm not saying you won't. I’m only saying that I won't let you die."

"You promise?" Conflict is written all over Dean's face. He trusts Cas, but he's not sure he trusts Cas with Sam's life. No one else is entrusted with that, not even Sam.

"I promise, Dean." Cas lets go of Sam's arms and stares at Dean, waiting for Dean's acceptance. It irks Sam that he's not the one who gets to make this decision, but it's just another round of the fight no one's ever going to win, so he holds his irritation in check.

Dean must find his answer in Cas's eyes because he drops his gaze and nods. "Then lets slam those damn gates. What can we do?"

Cas hands them the demon-holding cuffs and answers, "Be ready when I call Crowley."

"Crowley?" Sam asks. "Really?"

"Yes," Cas answers, throwing him a can of paint. "Devil's trap," he says, and throws a second can to Dean. "Crowley has already been prepared, and still harbors an addiction to human blood. You should only have to give him one last dose before you cure him."

Sam swallows. To purify his blood, he needs to confess. "Doesn't this need to be holy ground? And I'll need…" he glances at Dean, thinking of his last confession. "I'll need to confess."

Cas recites something in Enochian. There's a flash of white light that looks like his Grace explodes out of him and lights the whole barn, thick streams of it falling and soaking into the ground like rainwater. 

"The ground has been consecrated," he says. "You can confess wherever you wish. Just do it quickly."

Dean shoots Sam an appraising look, like doesn't know whether or not he trusts Sam to do it right. He holds the sarcasm, which actually makes the whole situation worse. It means Dean's worried. Probably because Cas didn't tell them the plan until he was in the thick of it, like he didn't trust they would want to close the gates. Or because he's lying about being able to prevent Sam's death. 

Sam finds he doesn't care – he was willing to make the sacrifice before and he's willing to do it again. If it results in his death, so be it. He'll have to trust that Dean has enough people in his life now that he won't do something crazy to bring Sam back. Or trust that Cas will be able to help him keep his promise. 

He takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. He nods at Cas, still mixing herbs, and Dean, finishing up the devil's trap, and heads to the Impala for a little privacy.

He sits in the passenger seat, thinks of all the time he's spent there, the terrible music he's been forced to listen to, the overbearing heat in the summers and drafty cold in the winters, the smell of two men who don't always have a place to shower and change clothes. The time spent in comfortable silence, the stupid games Dean made up to pass the time, the horrible gas station coffee. 

Sam sighs and closes his eyes. He's not sure he wants Baby to hear his confession, but better her than Dean or Cas.

"Well, this was hard enough the first time," Sam says, "but let's do it again." He can't really kneel, so he puts his hands together and bows his head. "I suppose I should confess all the lies and drinking and killing of demon meatsuits," Sam starts, not sorry for any of those things but thinking maybe he should be, at least a little. How far his humanity has eroded. "But the only thing I really regret is the whole cuddling thing with Cas and Dean. I know everybody's selfish sometimes, but I swear I didn't realize Cas and Dean were just dancing around each other. I thought…" He thinks about the open doors, the fact that they never hid what they were doing. There isn't anything shameful in it, damn it. Just the fact that he should have known better. "It doesn't matter. But I'm sorry if I screwed something up there, and I'd appreciate your help in getting those two idiots together if I don't make it."

It's not that much of a confession, but considering the very little time since his last one and all the sins he confessed then, it seems reasonable. He mutters "thanks" before opening the door to see where Dean and Cas are in the preparations. 

They both watch him coming like they have nothing else to do, so he guesses they're ready. "You really know how to call Crowley?" 

Cas raises an eyebrow at him. "You figured out how to call Balthazar. You think demons can't be individually summoned?"

Touché. Sam takes the demon cuffs out of his pocket and nods to Dean, who already has his in hand. Cas steps into the devil's trap, says a short Enochian spell, and lights the bowl of smelly herbs on fire. 

"Well, well, well," Crowley says from the hayloft. "What have we here? The band back together?"

Dean heads for the ladder and Crowley throws him against the wall. Sam gets thrown next, held against his will with the cuffs dangling from his hand. 

"No thanks," Crowley says. "I've had enough of your kinky hospitality." He snaps his fingers, but stays right where he is. There's a panicked look in his eyes. 

"Laid a devil's trap in the consecration," Cas says, jumping up and grabbing Crowley's dangling leg, holding on and yanking until they fall together in a heap. They wrestle in the hay bales, Crowley with his hand on Cas's face and Cas with his arm around Crowley's neck, and Sam can feel the hold on him give. He starts moving toward the pair of them, glancing at Dean to see he's doing the same.

They get close enough to lunge for Crowley's wrists, each of them getting a cuff on him while Cas sits on his stomach triumphantly. "Sit him up on the hay bales," Cas orders, and hands Sam a syringe. 

Sam's pretty sure this won't work – whatever the hell was building in him before he gave up the trials seems to be long gone, burning its way out of his body as it went. He doesn't think it will work without that. He doesn't know if he's relieved or disappointed. 

He draws the blood anyway, and Crowley surprises him, picking up from where they left off in the church, like he wants to be cured, and turning his head aside to receive the injection in his neck. Sam swallows and presses the needle in, watching Crowley's eyes close.

"Cas!" Dean shouts, and Sam turns to see him boiling over with Grace – seeping out of him through his pores. 

"It's okay, Dean," Cas says, and steps up to Sam. Sam looks down and sees the same energy boiling in Cas's arms that he remembers burning in his veins when he did the trials.

"It's Grace?" Sam asks, and Cas nods, holding his arms out, palms up. "I thought Grace was supposed to heal."

"You're human, Sam," Cas says. "Your body is not designed to contain Grace. It eats you up. But I won't let it this time." 

Sam grasps Cas's forearms, resting his in Cas's gentle grip, and he feels the Grace coming back into his body, the purifying burn. It doesn't hurt as bad this time, though, like it'd burned everything out of him the last time and Sam is nothing but a shell, nothing left for the fire to consume.

When the transfer's complete, Cas pulls away but leaves one hand on Sam's arm – two fingers tucked in the crook of his elbow. Sam can feel Dean's presence just behind him, solid, ready for anything. Cas presses a small silver knife into Sam's hand and he takes it, cutting his palm open and saying the words of the ritual he'd memorized months ago. 

He puts his hand over Crowley's mouth and Crowley cries out behind his fingers. The Grace comes out of Sam, burning its way out of his lungs, his fingertips, his chest. The screams get louder, and as the ground comes up to meet him, Sam realizes it must be him yelling so loudly.

~~~

He stays conscious, sort of. He's floating just outside his body, watching Dean cradle him in his arms and Cas standing stoically at his feet, his Grace shining bright enough to obscure his features. There is other Grace as well, burning under Sam's skin like lava. Sam can't feel it and he looks down at his body dispassionately. He's not moving, not even breathing, but the Grace moves, slithering up his arms like it's trying to escape.

"You promised," Dean shouts, looking up at Cas, anger and hope both present in his wet eyes, "you said Sam wouldn't die!"

"So I did," Cas says. He grasps Sam's limp arms and the Grace he gave to Sam flows back into him, making him glow even more brightly, though Dean doesn't seem to notice. Cas leans forward and presses two fingers to Sam's forehead. Sam is snapped back into his body forcefully and he lets out a low groan.

"What the hell was that?" Sam asks. "Pretty sure I was dead, there."

Cas smiles enigmatically. "The Grace I borrowed was a reaper's."

"Did it work?" Sam asks, looking around. He'd expected to feel it when the doors to Hell closed. He can't imagine it happened without some sort of shift, in the Earth or in him. 

"Yes," Crowley says softly from his perch on a hay bale. "I heard them screaming."

~~~

They clean up the barn, Crowley doing nothing more than bowing his head when Sam brings out his gun. Cas packs up the gear and they climb back in the Impala, Sam's mission completed with no fireworks or fanfare, nothing more than the blood of a human Crowley on his hands. 

"One down, one to go," Cas says, and Sam wonders again what the hell Cas isn't telling them.

~~~


	10. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas's plan is revealed.

~~~

Dean seems to think Sam should be tired from his near-death experience, so he relegates Sam to the back seat. Apparently Cas called shotgun while Sam was out… dead.

Sam doesn't fight it, even though he's wired and Dean's the one that probably needs a rest. He'll start nodding at the wheel after the adrenaline wears off and Sam can take over then. He's definitely not sleepy, and there isn't any adrenaline happening in his body. His body still feels wide open, like the grace cut a path on its way out. Not burned, not like the last time, but _cut_. Sam feels exposed, but the only person who might actually notice is Cas and he's busy practicing his flute technique.

Before they really get on the road with Cas's traveling recital, they decide to make a pit stop for gas and as much food and water as they can stuff in the unused footwell of the back seat. Sam buys six bananas – the entirety of the gas station's non-processed food. They've got to stop for gas – he can find the bigger marts on the road, those with some fresh fruit or boxes of granola in their aisles.

Dean puts a few pairs of earplugs in the cart when they check out. It's a smart idea. Listening to the angel melody on repeat for a week would probably drive them both crazy. Sam takes his laptop and iPod into the back seat with him, loading everything he can think of onto it so he doesn't go stir crazy from the sound of blood rushing in his ears. That'd be just as bad as alien flute music. He makes a playlist for Dean, since they won't be able to blast the radio while Cas is playing, and then decides he's clearly the better sibling when he hands the iPod over to Dean for the first leg.

"Thanks, man," Dean says, with the kind of surprise sincerity that means everything to Sam. They're so often careful around each other, deliberate, that it's always nice when there's a spontaneity to their brotherly affection.

"You're welcome," Sam says, and puts in a pair of earplugs as Dean pulls away from the gas station and puts the pedal to the metal.

~~~

It's the longest, most uncomfortable slog of Sam's life. Still, he doesn't complain and for once, neither does Dean. As uncomfortable as they both are, Cas is a hundred times more so. He barely moves, sitting in Zen-like stillness, playing the recorder with his eyes closed, a look of concentration permanently etched on his face. His Grace is glowing beneath his skin, like it's dying to be let out, and it's not long before they have to buy wraparound sunglasses to keep their eyes from burning out.

On the plus side, by the end of day two, the number of angels clogging the road behind them has made the road ahead brilliantly empty. They've agreed to take smaller highways, stay off the toll roads and interstates where they might get more than dirty looks from the locals for tying up their roads; the last thing they need is some kind of police intervention.

Even so, by the time they get to Multnomah Falls, it's clear they're going to overflow the parking lot – not to mention, as soon as the Impala stops moving, the traffic on the highway stops moving too. It's going to be a nightmare getting out of here. Sam groans when he realizes they should've thought about this a little better, left the Impala somewhere else. It's too late now, though, Cas is out of the car, playing and walking, and Dean hurries after him to grab his elbow and steer him away from rocks and other people.

Sam would warn people, but the angels are following, passive and dead-eyed, and most of the other hikers and tourists have enough sense to get the hell out of there. Thankfully, the cave is behind the lower falls. It's not easy going, especially for Cas, who has to spend most of his attention on playing the flute, and there's a moment when they go through the waterfall that Sam thinks he hears a hitch in the eerie melody. Cas comes out the other side still playing, though, and the creepy, vacant angels are following along like good little sheep, so Sam doesn't sweat it.

One of the things that was never particularly clear in the plan was how, exactly, they were going to open the door to Limbo. _A reaper's Grace_ , he remembers Cas saying, and suddenly it becomes very clear. He's going to open the door himself. 

He and Dean form a human barrier against the crush of angels, and Cas does a brief hand motion during one short part of the melody where he has a hand free. The door opens in the slightly psychedelic way the door to Purgatory opened, and Cas steps through. 

Sam can feel his heart beating in his throat and he glances at his brother, hoping Dean can read everything he means to say in that single look. Dean nods solemnly and threads his fingers through Sam's. They turn their backs on the angels and take the last steps toward the portal.

~~~

Sam wakes up with a splitting headache and blood dripping down his face. He tries to remember where he is, and the memory comes back with crystal clarity. The door to Limbo wouldn't let them pass. It actually threw them away, out of the path of the rampaging angels, slavering to follow Cas.

Sam opens his eyes, looking around the now empty cave and seeing Dean a few feet to his left, head hanging limply like he was just resting and accidentally fell asleep.

"Dean!" 

Sam belly-crawls his way over to his brother, grabbing onto his jeans and shaking. "Dean, wake up!"

Sam puts two fingers to Dean's wrist, relief crashing in on him when he feels the steady thump of Dean's pulse. He doesn't really feel like being awake, either, so he rests his head on Dean's thigh and sinks into his exhaustion.

~~~

"Sammy?!"

The fear in Dean's voice is what wakes Sam. He's used to Dean being loud, on purpose in the Impala sometimes, but when Dean's scared, there's an edge to his voice that cuts straight through Sam's sleep and wakes him up ready to fight. He jumps to his feet and gets his hands up. "Here, what?"

Dean chuckles and climbs to his feet, using the wall for balance. Sam reminds himself to check for a concussion later. "Thought you were dead again, asshole," Dean says, and Sam punches him on the shoulder. 

"Unconscious. That portal knocked us both out."

"I remember," Dean says, rubbing the back of his head. Yeah, definitely a concussion. "Why the hell would Cas do that?"

Sam raises his eyebrows but doesn't comment. Cas obviously had his reasons. "Think he's still bringing all the angels across Limbo?"

Dean shrugs. "Hell if I know. How long did it take you to get to hell from Purgatory?"

"A long time," Sam answers, thinking back on his trip to save Bobby. "Eight, maybe ten hours." 

"Praying would probably distract him, huh?" Dean says. 

Sam knows what he's thinking – Cas clearly thought this was the end, and didn't say goodbye to either of them. Sam's bad at goodbyes and Dean is worse, but it's always been important that they acknowledge what's going to happen, and that all the things left unsaid are the important ones. "Probably," he sighs. "Damn it, Cas."

~~~

They sit in the cave another hour before Sam thinks to call Kevin. "You think Cas would tell Kevin but not us?" Dean asks, and Sam knows that tone – he's hurt. Sam doesn't blame him, he's hurt too and he's not even in love with Cas.

"Kevin?" Sam asks, turning his face into the phone so he doesn't have to look at Dean. "It's Sam."

_"Duh. How's the angel brigade going? I've been following you on the news."_

"Huh," Sam says, and relays that information to Dean. "Well, they're all into Limbo, but Cas didn't let us through, so we're stuck in Oregon. We need you to tell us about Cas's trials. What does he have to do to close heaven?"

There's a long pause from Kevin, like he's debating whether or not he should tell.

"Now is the time to tell us, Kevin. If there is some way we can help Cas, you have to tell us."

 _"That's just it,"_ Kevin says, and Sam almost hangs up the phone before he lets Kevin finish his sentence. _"You can't help him."_

"What?" Dean asks, his face thunderous. "What did he say?"

Sam puts the phone on speaker. "Tell us."

 _"I figured you knew,_ Kevin says, his voice sympathetic, _"since you had to do the Hell trials."_

"He's gonna die?!" Dean yells. "Cas is going to commit angel suicide and _you didn't tell us?_ "

_"He made me promise, Dean. And sorry, but he's scarier than you guys."_

Sam closes his eyes. He can't look at Dean or he'll lose it too, and one of them has to be with it enough to figure a way around this. "Tell us."

 _"Well, the first trial was to defeat a reaper and immerse himself in its grace."_ Kevin chuckles, and Sam bites back the urge to yell that there's nothing funny about this. 

_"Second trial was to find a lost soul and bring it to its rightful place."_ Kevin hesitates, and then says, _"He told me he brought Jimmy's soul to Heaven."_

Dean makes an indescribable noise and Sam can't help looking over at him. He's stony-faced, and Sam knows that look well. His defensive walls are crumbling and he's going to break soon. Sam shifts to stand a little closer.

"And the third trial?" Dean asks in a tight voice.

_"An angel has to fall. If these trials correlate to closing the gates of Hell, then the person who undertakes the trial has to provide the ultimate sacrifice."_

Dean sits down hard, falling against the cave wall and thumping down it. Sam kneels next to him, taking his brother's weight and letting him hold his hand. 

_"I'm sorry,"_ Kevin says. _"He made me promise. He said you'd try to stop him."_

Sam snorts out a humorless laugh. "Well, he was right about that."

 _"He left something here for you guys,"_ Kevin says. _"A couple of notes, and boxes."_

 _A will,_ Sam thinks, and he knows Dean thinks the same from the way he squeezes Sam's hand tight enough to break bones. "All right," Sam says. "We'll head home soon. It's going to be –"

 _"You guys gotta get out of there,"_ Kevin says urgently. Sam doesn't know what to say to that. He's not sure Dean can move yet. _"Seriously, guys, move! They're showing the progress of the investigation on the TV and they're starting to tow cars away. I can see the Impala – it's only a couple rows back."_

"Yeah," Dean says, using Sam as a climbing post to get himself off the ground. "We'll get on the road. See you in a couple days."

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to get this up before I got jossed or kripked again! D:
> 
> I know it looks bleak, but I promise a happy ending.


	11. Adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They adjust.

~~~

The drive from Oregon to Kansas is the worst in Sam's living memory, and that includes the one they just spent tooling around the U.S. to Cas's angel-hypnotizing soundtrack. Dean's pretty messed up. Not that Sam isn't, but Dean is broken, somehow, and Sam doesn't know how to help him. He's never really known, and it's always killed him.

Dean drives first (Dean _always_ drives first) and Sam pretends to sleep, listening to Dean's sniffles and knowing he's crying, mostly silently. Sam knows the sound, though, he knows because it's only when Dean is hurt to the quick that he cries like this, and Sam's heart aches that he can't make anything better.

He misses Cas, too. He can't believe Cas played them like that, so easily, like they weren't really family after all, like he didn't need to say goodbye except in a couple of letters. Sam wants to hate him but mostly he just misses Cas, a hole torn in him like it was with Bobby, with Dad, with Jess. 

Dean pulls over and nearly throws himself out of the car, walking fast for the bathrooms. Sam knows he's probably going to punch something until it breaks or he bleeds or both. He gets out of the car on auto-pilot, fueling up and getting water and food for when they're feeling less empty, or when their bodies force them to eat and drink.

He waits for Dean to get himself together, leaning against the Impala, letting her carry his weight like she's done a thousand times before. She's the only real family they have left besides each other, and while Sam knows that Charlie and Garth and Kevin and Linda are nearly as close as family, it's just not the same, and he can't put his finger on why. 

He sees Dean come around the corner of the building, face calm and knuckles bruised. He waits where he is, pushing off Baby and standing up straight. He wants to drive, give Dean some time to unwind and maybe sleep, but it has to be Dean's suggestion or he'll just get stubborn and drive the whole way home himself.

Dean looks him over, probably knowing what Sam's thinking, and he approaches without a word, twirling the keys around a finger. He stops in front of Sam – hugging distance, if Sam thought he could get away with it. He might be able to, if he's willing to take a shiner along with the hug. He just stands there, though, letting Dean know he'll follow his lead, whatever he decides to do.

Dean flips the keys a few more times, most likely a distraction to give himself time to think, and finally offers them to Sam. "I'm tired," he says, stepping around Sam and settling himself in the passenger seat.

Sam gets in and pops an energy drink, taking off for home. Dean's left hand creeps across the seat and finally Sam just takes hold of it with his right, tangling their fingers together. One of Dean's knuckles busts open but he doesn't make a sound, just rests his head against the window and closes his eyes.

~~~

The drive home is silent and haunted; Sam can't help his thoughts turning to Cas, and somehow Dean's head resting on his thigh makes it worse. When Dean wakes up enough to drive, somewhere in Wyoming, Sam scoots across the seat, making Dean get out and walk around the car. He rests his head against the window as soon as Dean shuts the door, and he's asleep before they're even back on the highway.

Sam wakes up as they skirt Colorado on their way to Nebraska. He's pretty sure Dean's on autopilot because this is never the route Dean takes home from the West Coast if he can help it. Sam doesn’t bring it up, he just waits to see if Dean's going to hand over the keys again. It's unlikely; once Dean gets in the driver's seat it's nearly impossible to pry him out of it.

Dean surprises him, hands over the keys when they stop for gas in North Platte. Sam takes them without comment, getting them off the interstate on onto the state roads that'll get them back to the bunker. 

When they get back, Dean grabs Sam's wrist before he can turn off the engine. "Sammy," is all Dean says, his voice soft.

Sam nods. "I've got you." He clasps their hands together and pulls Dean behind him as he gets out, across the front seat of the Impala. He lets Dean climb out on his own, though, which is a pain in the ass while they're holding hands – but Dean's not inclined to let go, and Sam's following Dean's lead on this one.

They leave their bags in the trunk and stumble toward the sleeping quarters, neither one of them saying a word as they walk past Dean's door and stop at Cas's. It's wide open, the covers still a mess from the last time Cas slept in them – a couple of weeks ago now. Dean lets go of Sam's hand, and Sam would worry about that except he has a bad feeling he knows what's next. 

Dean strips down to his boxers and climbs in, pulling the covers up to his chin. He rolls onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow and inhaling deeply, and Sam is torn, his need to take care of Dean warring with the idea that this is private, that Dean might not want him to see this. 

Sam walks around the bed, following Dean's path purposely, coming up behind him to put a hand on his arm. Dean rolls onto his back to look him in the eyes, then grabs Sam's hand and yanks him down to the bed. Sam falls, heavily but not completely gracelessly – at least half of him had expected Dean to do that. He squeezes Dean's hand briefly, releasing it to take off his boots and overshirt, not bothering with the rest of it and just staying on top of the covers as he spoons around his brother. Dean lets him without a single complaint, so Sam throws his arm over his brother, not at all surprised when Dean's groping fingers find his and hold on tight.

~~~

Sam wakes slowly, the feel of someone's head on his chest familiar and comforting. It's not quite right, though, because Cas always rests his head in the cup of Sam's shoulder, and this… this must be Dean. Dean always lies with his head over Sam's heart, like he's trying to be sure Sam's okay. 

Sam's not okay. He hadn't even gotten those few moments of forgetfulness he sometimes gets when he wakes up. There was just a sensation of not-Cas and realization of Dean, and Sam's heart aches. He can still smell Cas on the pillows and sheets. 

He can't stay in the bed any longer; the sensations are overwhelming and he can't deal with grief unless he can start packing everything away, putting the memories and thoughts into that small, safe place inside, the one he saves for when things are bad. Not just bad, but Winchesters-shit-luck bad, when he's being drained of his blood, when Dean's being tortured in front of him, when things look like they might be coming up on a "Bridge Out" sign at full steam. 

Sam eases himself out from under Dean, picking up his stuff on the way out. He puts his boots on once he's out in the hallway, and pulls on his shirt on his way out to the Impala to get their stuff out of the trunk. He takes it straight to the laundry, throwing in a load and leaving the rest to do later. He needs to shower, stand under the hot water and not think for a while.

~~~

When Sam finally makes his way to the kitchen, Kevin is at the little table eating the last of the cereal. He looks up as Sam sets down his bowl, and guiltily brings his cereal in closer to him. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"It's fine," Sam says. "I'll run out for groceries later."

Kevin nods. "We need peanut butter, too. And laundry detergent."

That was already on Sam's list. He used the last of it on the load of whites he put in before his shower.

"You okay?" Kevin asks.

Sam's not okay, but he's managing, because he has a bad feeling Dean's going to fall apart, and Sam doesn't know what that looks like anymore. The last time Dean fell apart was when dad died, and that relationship was just about as complicated as his relationship with Cas, but Dean was a lot simpler then.

Sam shrugs. "I'll manage."

Sam sits quietly for a moment, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of the bunker. Garth and Charlie are talking quietly in the other room, and Kevin keeps on eating his cereal, probably thoughtful as much as Sam is.

"We're all going to miss him," Kevin says, and Sam nods. He knows everyone'd grown fond of Cas over the last several months, but it isn't the same. They didn't know Cas like he and Dean did. Even Kevin, who at least remembers Cas as an angel, doesn't understand what the three of them have been through together.

Sam gets up, leaving his bowl on the table. "Anything else on that shopping list?"

Kevin takes a moment before he says, "Bacon and stuff for pancakes."

~~~

Sam learns how to make pancakes that morning, and he and Kevin carry the trays full of breakfast meats (Sam couldn't decide on sausage, bacon, or ham, so he got them all), pancakes, and juice to Cas's room. Dean's still curled up under the covers, and he looks like he really wants to send them away, but Sam knows he won't – not Kevin, anyway, which is the only reason Sam went along with his plan. 

Dean sits up and scrubs a hand through his hair, making it stick up hilariously. Sam doesn't even make him get out from under the covers, just sets his tray on Dean's right and climbs on the end of the bed. Kevin hands out plates and Dean gamely takes some of everything, though he doesn't do much more than push the food around the plate. 

Sam dips his bacon in syrup, a silent tribute to Cas, and Kevin actually manages to keep the conversation moving as he tells them about the news coverage of the posse of angels. Dean smiles a couple of times, when Kevin describes the near-clusterfuck in Michigan where they stopped for gas and had to go over four people's lawns to get to an alley that eventually got them to an open street. Cas had been bouncing up and down as he played, giving the angel tune a weird, hitching vibrato that made them both laugh, and Cas smile around the recorder. 

Kevin deftly winds up as it becomes obvious Dean's not going to eat anything more or get out of bed, and ends with, "I'm really sorry."

Dean nods, staring down at his hands. Sam almost wishes he had something to do, like rebuild the Impala. He always works through things better when he's moving. Sam will have to find something for him to do, but not today. Today he'll let Dean stay in bed.

~~~

Kevin tells Sam that he put their notes and boxes away for safekeeping. He didn't think they'd want to deal with it right away, and he didn't want anyone else tripping over them in the meantime. Sam goes to look at them, a couple of pieces of lined notebook paper and two small black boxes, of identical size. He's not quite sure what to make of that. He expected Cas to have left something… _more_ for Dean. More than for Sam, anyway, and he's suddenly desperately grateful for those stolen moments with the three of them piled in the bed together.

He leaves everything where Kevin stashed it and goes to inspect the garage. The Impala may be running fine, but Sam's pretty sure a couple of the old cars stored out there could use a tune-up.

~~~

Sam does laundry for the rest of the day, a nicely brainless task that requires him to do things at regular intervals and allows him to sit and do nothing in between. He folds everything neatly into three stacks, one each for him, Dean, and Cas. There's only a few things of Cas's, things that had been haphazardly thrown in with their stuff here and there.

There's an old AC/DC shirt of Dean's that Sam almost puts on the Cas pile – he appropriated it back when he first turned human, and Dean kept putting it in Cas's pile after that. Dean hadn't worn it for years before Cas dug it out. Sam had been surprised Dean still even had it; it must've been fifteen years old. 

Sam puts it on Dean's pile, buried under his other t-shirts, and throws all Dean's stuff in an empty laundry basket. He throws his in another one and shoves Cas's few items to the back of the folding table, not sure what to do with it besides leave it there.

He stays in the laundry room all day, not really ready to face anyone yet, and when it feels like it might be late enough to slip off to bed unnoticed, he grabs the baskets and wanders down the long hallway with all their bedrooms. He stops at Dean's room to drop off his clothes, setting the basket just inside the door and closing it up again.

He holds his breath as he comes up to Cas's room, not sure if he hopes Dean is in there or not, or if he is, whether he's awake or not. 

"Sammy?" Dean calls, before Sam even gets to Cas's room. 

Sam lets his breath out with a whoosh and steps into the room. "Dean?"

"Come here."

Sam drops his basket of clothes inside the door and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. Dean takes his hand and twines their fingers together, yanking on Sam's arm like he wants to roll over and take it with him. "Dean," Sam says cautiously, knowing this isn't the time but also knowing it won't get any easier if he keeps sleeping with Dean.

"Not tonight," Dean says. "Just… give me tonight."

Sam sighs and squeezes Dean's hand, pulling off everything but his t-shirt, and tucking in behind Dean. The blankets smell of Dean now, but there's still a lingering scent of Cas on the pillows.

~~~

Dean gets out of bed the next day, guided by Sam to the garage, where he does his equivalent of laundry. Sam leaves him alone, mostly, drowning himself in research and worrying about Dean, or sometimes thinking about Cas's note and the accompanying box and whether or not he'll ever have the ability to open it. He doesn't even bring it up to Dean, not that day or the rest of the week.

They limp along like that for a week, everyone in the bunker giving them space, though he can see Charlie desperately wants to help, sees it in the quivering of her muscles whenever he wanders through a room she's sitting in. She knows them, though, and she knows not to talk about it, so they nod at each other and Sam slouches away, whatever book he came for in hand.

They sleep together in Cas's bed, too, Sam unwilling to take this one last thing from Dean right now. After the first week, though, he knows it's going to be too hard to break the habit, so he waits for Dean to wake up the next morning, Dean's head resting in its customary place on Sam's chest.

Dean wakes warily; he's been sleeping a lot the last week and Sam's always eased out of bed in the mornings, leaving Dean to wake up alone later. It's one of the reasons it's so hard to talk about it – they've never had to deal with this specific awkward moment.

"Morning," Dean says, doing that annoying thing where he refuses to acknowledge the awkwardness. "Guessing you're hanging around because you want to _talk_."

Sam rolls his eyes and nudges Dean with his elbow. He takes a breath, but before he can say anything, Dean wraps his arms around his ribs and squeezes tight. "Don't," he says. "You're all I've got left, Sammy. Just… give me a little while longer."

Sam sighs. It's not that he thinks it's wrong or weird or gross; it's just… "I can’t be your everything, Dean." 

Dean's grip on him loosens, then.

"You need something else in your life. _Someone_ else." 

Dean shakes his head, and denial – that is the thing that Dean can do to perfection. "I have people," he says, "we have a bunker full of people–"

"Not like that." Because Cas was more to Dean, even if Dean can't admit it yet, or will never be able to admit it. 

"Well," Dean says, rolling off Sam and out of bed, "that's not gonna happen." He heads straight for the door and Sam gets up and hurries to follow. "You know me. You gotta know that’s never gonna happen."

"I know you don’t try," Sam argues, trying to shake something loose before Dean slips through his fingers and into his daily routine. He's already got his clothes picked out from the clean laundry and a towel slung over his shoulders. 

"I know you think you don’t deserve it."

Dean snorts. "I think anyone that gets too near me doesn’t deserve what they get. No civilians in the line of fire, Sammy." 

Sam knows he's lost when Dean slips past Sam and heads down the hall toward the showers. He watches Dean leave, wondering where this leaves them.

"Oh, and Sam." 

Sam stops. Waits. 

"You're not my everything." Dean throws it over his shoulder, like he can't face Sam when he says it. "You're just the only thing that matters."

~~~

Linda has had it with them, and at noon, she herds them both into the main room, where everyone is eating lunch together. There is a smorgasbord of sandwich fixings on the table and Sam puts together a decent turkey sub with avocado and sprouts and spinach. Dean rolls his eyes at all the green and piles on every type of meat and cheese on the table.

"Thanks, Linda," Sam says, and takes a bite of the hoagie. It's the first time he's eaten anything but cereal in days, and it tastes like heaven. Dean makes appreciative noises around his carnivore's sandwich too, and Linda smiles at them both.

"We're watching the Iron Man movies tonight," Charlie says. "When you're done tinkering in the garage and doing research for non-existent hunts."

Sam glances at Dean and he swallows hard, faking it off as biting off too much to chew. He nods, though, and Sam smiles. "Sounds good."

"Good," Kevin says, "because we're out of popcorn and all variations of M&Ms."

"Tell me we have Pringles," Dean says, and Garth hides an embarrassed smile behind his hand.

"Junk food trip," Dean crows, and the whole table seems to light up with smiles. Sam feels better than he has in days, and he can't stop grinning as he and Kevin and Dean raid the grocery store for every variety of potato chip and chocolate known to man, and are sure to pick up three pints of Ben and Jerry's for them all to share.

~~~

They're halfway through Iron Man 3 when Sam first thinks he hears something. There are a lot of explosions on screen, so he lets it go, assuming it's his overactive imagination. Getting out from under Charlie would be tough to manage at any rate.

A few minutes later, in a lull long enough for their hearing to come back online, Sam hears it again, and this time Garth and Dean glance at the doorway, too, like they might have also heard something. Charlie sits up and Dean goes to the gun cabinet, handing out weaponry to Sam, Garth, and Linda. He takes the lead out into the common room and Sam stays at the back, checking back on Kevin and Charlie huddled together on the couch before he follows them out.

"Sounds like someone's knocking," Garth says, and sure enough, it does sound like that. It's persistent, too – three knocks, a ten second wait, and then three more knocks. Dean motions for Garth and Linda to wait at the bottom of the stairs, and Sam follows him up, shotgun at the ready as Dean opens the door.

"Please don't shoot me," Cas says, sounding tired.

"Cas!" Sam shouts, setting down the shotgun and pulling Cas into a hug. Cas stumbles forward, just barely into the bunker, and Sam lifts him off his feet, yanking him in far enough for Dean to close the door. "Damn it, Cas, we thought you were dead!"

Cas reponds to the hug, putting his arms around Sam and patting, awkwardly. Sam sets him down and Dean closes the door hard. 

"Where the hell have you been?" he asks, loud and furious and right in Cas's face. 

Cas's expression changes, sorrow taking over some of the relief Sam had seen when he first pulled Cas in.

"The final trial was for an angel to fall," Cas says. "I thought I was doing the trials, so Tessa would fall and I would finally be at peace." He laughs bitterly. "She outsmarted me. She completed the trials – so I fell, but not before I saw her die to close the gates of Heaven." Sam rests a hand on his shoulder, and another on Dean's. "I landed in Mexico. It took me a week to get here."

Dean's anger dissolves at that, though being Dean, he can't help one more poke, right in Cas's ear as he hugs the stuffing out of him. "Why didn't you call us, you asshole?"

Cas pulls back, his hands staying on Dean's waist and shoulder for just one second too long. "I didn't know how to make an international call."

~~~


	12. Assembly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas settles in; they all settle in. Contents may shift in transit.

~~~

Sam wakes up sweating. Not a cold sweat, like the last eight days or so, but a nicely warm sweat caused by Cas's body plastered up against his, his head resting in its accustomed place in the cup of Sam's shoulder. Sam turns his head to look down at Cas and sees Dean curled up behind him, one hand around Cas's waist like a teddy bear he refuses to let go of. His other hand is tucked under his pillow, and he looks more peaceful than Sam's seen in a really long time. 

It's simultaneously the best and worst feeling Sam's ever had. Having Cas back strips away the dull stupor he's been living in for the last week, but it replaces it with the feeling of his heart breaking, since he knows damn well this is the last time he'll be here in this bed with them. He closes his eyes and savors it, giving himself the few extra minutes he can while he waits for Dean and Cas to wake up.

He keeps his breathing deep and even, but it's still less than fifteen minutes before Dean wakes up. He would know the difference in Dean's breathing no matter what, but as soon as his brother takes the first deep breath of the morning, his arm shifts out from under his pillow and his hand searches Sam's out. Sam squeezes their fingers together, wondering how long Cas is going to sleep. Sam's warm and comfortable and likely to fall back asleep if Cas doesn't wake up soon.

~~~

When Sam wakes the next time, it's just him and Cas. Cas is still plastered to his side, but he's shifted so he's mostly on his front, and he's thrown an arm across Sam's stomach. He debates shifting himself out from under Cas, but before he can even talk himself out of it, Cas says, "It smells like you and Dean."

Sam smiles grimly. "We slept in here while you were gone."

Cas nods. "That's good," he says, and turns back over to settle his head on Sam's shoulder. "I missed you both while I was on the road."

"You could've called once you hit the States," Sam says, because he doesn't even want to think about how much he and Dean missed Cas, how much of a hole he'd punched into their lives by leaving them.

"I thought I should start my life as a human independently," Cas says. "I don't want you to think I am defenseless."

Sam can't believe Cas would throw those words back at him. "I know you're not defenseless, Cas. And we were mourning you! You could've saved everyone a lot of heartache."

Cas hums. "I needed some time to adjust. I didn't want to come back here until I'd gotten everything straight."

"We could've helped with that," Dean says, and Sam's head snaps up to the doorway, where Dean is carrying a tray of pancakes and bacon. "It's what family does."

"Not in this case," Cas says, rolling off of Sam and sitting up. "I had two families – and letting go of one for the other was not something I ever expected to have to do."

"I'm sorry, Cas," Sam says. He doesn't like to think of the angels as Cas's siblings because most of them are assholes, or worse. When he thinks of Dean, though, he knows a lot of people think of him as an asshole. Or worse. And he'd never be able to leave his brother for any other family, not the Men of Letters or even the group of almost-family they've assembled in the bunker. 

"Thank you, Sam." Cas scoots across the bed and that's Sam's cue to get up and help straighten the covers so they can have breakfast. 

Dean looks skeptical, but Dean's always been weirdly self-centered in this way; he can't imagine not wanting to be a Winchester, and he can't imagine any other family mattering more than that. Sam wonders how long he's thought of Cas as one of them, if it's just been the last year or so, or if it's been since Cas joined Team Free Will back before Sam jumped in the cage. They've betrayed each other a couple times over since then, but that's all part of the Winchester package. That makes him more a Winchester, not less.

"Well, we're glad you're back, anyway," Dean says, stacking pancakes and bacon on Cas's plate before pouring syrup over the whole thing.

~~~

When they all finally make it out to the main room of the bunker, Linda brings out a cake that has a wobbly _Happy Birthday, Cas_ written on it in blue icing. 

Sam hadn't really considered that Cas's fall would be his birthday, but it fits, if uncomfortably. He thinks maybe he'll talk to Cas later about choosing his own birthday. The last thing he wants is for something that's supposed to have fun connotations reminding him of all the sacrifices he's made.

There wasn't time to get gifts, so Cas is presented with random things from around the bunker, wrapped in whatever was available. He opens gifts wrapped in newspaper, butcher's paper, and porn (that from Charlie) and comes away with an ancient stapler, a St. Christopher medal, a carton of raspberries (possibly the best gift because Cas has always loved them), and a toothbrush. Dean hastily scribbles a note on a piece of paper, and Sam catches a glimpse of an IOU for a clothes-shopping trip. He thinks maybe they should send Charlie or Kevin along on that one.

That reminds Sam of Cas's small pile of laundry, so he makes a quick jaunt to the laundry room to retrieve it – with a side trip to Dean's room to pick up the AC/DC shirt. Considering Cas is wearing the same dirty clothes he came in, this is something he should've done earlier, but it earns him a grateful smile from Cas.

They spend the rest of the day together in the TV room, letting Cas pick all the movies, which means they watch The Little Mermaid, 13 Going On 30, Iron Man 2, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The genre whiplash gives Sam a headache.

They take a break between the romantic comedy and the superhero flick to make a pot of chili and heat up a loaf of garlic bread Garth remembered was in the freezer. They run through their stock of oyster crackers and Dean pushes his ration over to Cas and heaves a long-suffering sigh as he crumbles pretzels in his chili.

~~~

Sam is actually interested in the intellectual property debate that's glossed over in Iron Man 2, but there's no one he can even talk to about it, so he keeps his mouth shut and decides to look into government seizure of private property and laws around private citizens creating weapons. 

He's debating a new weapon that would combine several of their makeshift hunting tools into a single, easy to carry firearm when Charlie twitches awake from her position between his shins. He reaches forward to pet her hair and she leans her head into his hand, making a soft humming noise. "Time for bed," she says, rolling out of the beanbag gracelessly.

Sam looks at the other couch where Cas has fallen asleep on Dean's shoulder and Dean's head is drifting slowly down to his chest. Everyone else has already made their way out of the room, which is pretty damn stealthy considering Sam had only been distracted, not sleeping.

He gets up to go with Charlie, leaving Dean to wrangle Cas to bed.

~~~

Sam goes to bed in his room, flopped face down on the bed, covers up to his ears. He'll kick them off in the middle of the night when he gets too hot, but when he first gets in, it takes a while to warm up. He's just starting to drowse when the door opens, and he can't wake up enough to protest. 

He feels someone climb in on his right – the gentle dip in the bed means it's Cas – and he slides under the covers, curling himself up against Sam's side. There's the thunk of Dean's boots and then Dean climbs in on his left, lying half on top of Sam and throwing one arm over his back. Sam's going to be sweating tomorrow, but Cas and Dean's warm bodies next to his makes him even sleepier, and he lets himself drift back down, the feeling of warmth more than just the extra body heat.

~~~

When Sam wakes the next morning, Dean is already up and gone. Sam's flopped over in the night so he's on his back and thrown off the covers. Cas is tangled up in them, though his head is in its usual place on Sam's shoulder. 

Sam closes his eyes, wondering how the hell he's going to get through to these guys. Dean is going to take everything he's got, cunning and brutal honesty and possibly blackmail. Cas is both easier and tougher; if Sam can lead him to the realization, he'll take it upon himself to rectify the situation, but leading him is not as easy as it seems – and it has a tendency to backfire on anyone who tries it. Sam knows he'll have to be completely honest about the situation, which he's not sure he's ready to do. There's some not-so-small part of him that wants this to continue. It's not that he isn't selfish – he knows he's taken everything Dean's ever offered and then some – but this isn't his, and the guilt from accepting it is piling up enough to make him uncomfortable. 

"I know you are awake," Cas says. "I can roll over if you want to get up."

Sam doesn't even ask how Cas knew, he just takes a deep breath and lets the anxiety go as he blows it out. "We need to talk, Cas."

He can actually feel the pull of Cas's cheek muscle against his shoulder – a grin. "That explains why you are so tense." Cas nestles his head into Sam's shoulder and squeezes the arm wrapped around Sam's waist. "What is it?"

It creeps Sam out to talk like this. It's a trick he and Jess used to use; when one of them needed to talk and couldn't handle it face to face, they'd talk like this, like they were just saying things to the room around them, the air or the dust motes. It was easier and more intimate at the same time. Doing it with Cas just makes things worse, makes him feel like he's intruding on an intimacy that's not his.

"You and Dean need to leave me out of whatever is going on," Sam says. 

There. That wasn't so bad. Talking to the air, always easier.

"I don't understand," Cas says. "What is… _going on_?"

Sam closes his eyes, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "This," Sam says, shrugging his shoulder up under Cas's head, making it bobble. "Sleeping together."

Cas sits up and scrambles backwards from Sam, staring at him with huge eyes. "You don't wish to participate?"

And here is where Sam should lie. He would lie, if he was better at it, or if he wanted it less. "I don't really think it's my place," he says, as neutrally as he can. 

But Cas has learned their double-speak over the years. He knows perfectly well what Dean's not saying in his clenched-jaw silences, and he can see through Sam's twisted non-answers. He looks at Sam with hard eyes. "Why?"

Sam sits up, resting his back against the headboard. "You and Dean…" He lets the words hang, hoping Cas will get the idea and not actually make him say it. As much as Dean thinks Sam's the one that always wants to talk, he really hates it, especially with Cas. Trying to have meaningful emotional conversations with Cas is like trying to hug a porcupine.

"Dean and I what?" Cas asks. The hard expression in his eyes has been replaced by simple curiosity.

"Well, there's the whole profound bond thing, for starters."

For half a second, Sam is almost certain he sees regret on Cas's face. He blinks and then it's just a frown – a typical _save me from the stupid Winchesters_ frown. "That was many years ago," Cas says. "And I was quite naïve about the bonds of friendship and family then. You and I have a more human bond, but it is no less profound than the one I share with your brother. It is more hard-won, in fact," Cas says, "so perhaps it is actually more valuable."

Sam stares at Cas, blinking uncomprehendingly. That is not what he expected to hear. Of course, Cas has to punch him while he's down, so he says, "Are you uncomfortable with the physical contact? I would have expected you to bring up your concerns earlier if that was the case."

"No," Sam says immediately, too quickly. "No, I like it. I just think that you and Dean have a different sort of relationship than you and I have, and Dean and I… we're brothers. It's a little weird, us sleeping together."

"You slept together in my absence," Cas points out, because _of course_ he would pick that to focus on.

Sam sighs. He would say he should have prepared for this better, but there really isn't any way to prepare for conversations with Cas. "We were grieving. Dean needed physical contact, and, I guess, so did I. I was already trying to wean him off it when you got back."

"Why?" 

Sam closes his eyes. This is a stupid idea. He should just say it, get it out there and put Cas on the defensive for a change. He takes a deep breath and gets the words out before before his momentary bravado fails him. "Because, Cas, sleeping together isn't something people generally do – unless they're in a romantic relationship. And maybe you and Dean haven't noticed yet, but I'm pretty sure that's where the two of you are headed."

Cas tilts his head the other direction, a shift that means he's gone from thoughtful to confused – usually a result of a failed logical connection. "You say Dean and I, but exclude yourself. Why are you sleeping with us if you feel that it is only for those involved in romantic relationships?"

Sam snorts. "Well, Cas, lately, the two of you have been sleeping with me, if you want to get technical. I go to bed alone and wake up like this."

Cas looks down at the tangle of sheets he's still trapped in. "You said you like the physical contact. So it is the romantic relationship you would prefer to avoid."

That's a leading statement if there ever was one, so Sam is hesitant to confirm it outright – especially since it's not something that's occurred to him before. He raises one shoulder in a shrug. "I never really thought about a romantic relationship with either of you." 

Cas nods, slowly. "And you think I have? And Dean has?"

Sam shakes his head. Now it gets to the tricky part. "No. It's just that… the two of you have…" He closes his eyes. Dean would kill him if he heard them talking like this. "You've got chemistry." 

"Chemistry?" Cas asks, his head tilting back into "logic fail" position. 

"Sexual chemistry," Sam clarifies. "There's just… sexual tension between you. Anyone who's ever seen you two together has noticed it. Balthazar remarked on it back in the day. Hell, Charlie noticed back when she read the Supernatural books and never even met you, which means Chuck noticed too."

Cas deflates, folding in on himself until he's lying down on the mattress; it's like the logic fail has compromised his ability to be upright. He curls onto his side and stares up at Sam. "If Dean and I were to start a romantic relationship, you would not want to be part of it?"

Sam stutters out a laugh. Only Cas. "I'm pretty sure Dean wouldn't want me to be part of it."

"Why?"

"Okay," Dean says, stepping into the doorway, and _shit_ , Sam should've heard his boots coming down the hallway – he can't believe he let himself get so distracted. "Now that the entire bunker has gotten an earful of your slumber party giggling, I think we're done talking here."

"No, wait," Cas says, sitting back up and twisting around to look at Dean, "are we going to have a romantic relationship?"

Dean narrows his eyes at Sam, and he can read _this is all your fault_ loud and clear. "This," Dean says, sweeping his hand back and forth from himself and the pair of them, "is not about that. It never was, and that's why it's fine that Sam's involved." He levels his gaze at Cas, nodding after a second, like he thinks he's gotten some kind of response. "So if we can get back to normal and _never discuss this again_ that'd be great."

"Okay," Cas says, bouncing out of bed. Sam blinks at the sudden shift in mood, until he realizes Cas got out of bed to yank Dean into it. 

Dean rolls his eyes but lets Cas lead him over to the bed, and when Cas curls up along Sam's side, Dean curls up behind him, leaning across to cuff Sam upside the head. "Idiot," he says affectionately, and Sam gives in. He's only human, after all. He catches Dean's hand before he pulls it back and intertwines their fingers.

~~~

The routine that develops over the next few months is unlike anything Sam has known in his entire life. He thinks it might be what hunting was like back in his dad's day, relaxed and somewhat resembling what even most non-hunters would consider normal.

The hunts themselves have slowed down to a trickle, and the most common source of disturbance is ghosts. They take care of the local ones, but thanks to Garth, they have a network of hunters all over the States that can handle simple salt and burns or the occasional werewolf with ease. 

Garth, Charlie, and Kevin set up landlines for all the major agencies and take Bobby's original "hunter central" idea to scarily competent levels. The bunker becomes a call center, and they make sure the new cards they send out have gender-neutral names so whoever is on hand can answer the phones if necessary.

Linda goes back to school to get a psychology degree. She's starting online, but Sam knows she's going to have to move to Kansas City in a few years when she starts on the clinical part of her degree. She's smart, and he gets it – if there was ever anyone that needed therapy it's hunters, and there's no way to be honest with a normal shrink – but he knows he's going to hate it when she has to move out. 

It all makes Sam a little queasy, especially when Dean and Garth get normal jobs – Dean in construction and Garth as a dentist, with an office and everything. Charlie and Kevin both bring in money, too, working some kind of IT support job that they can do from the bunker. 

By virtue of the fact that Sam is actually the least employable of them all, he becomes the stay-at-home hunter. He takes his job seriously, fixing up the place one room at a time and managing the grocery list and the chore assignment spreadsheet with ruthless precision. 

He takes care of the finances as well. They each have bank accounts – real ones, with money they've earned, but they all pitch in to the kitty for groceries and supplies, which Sam makes sure are fully stocked at all times. The rest he puts into savings, until they have enough money to bail any of them out if necessary. Then he starts looking at ways to expand their portfolio. 

The evenings settle into a routine, too. Cas spends all day reading; he rarely leaves the library unless one of them comes to get him for meals or to guide him to bed. Most nights they find him asleep over one of the books in the library. Dean takes him to bed and Sam stays up for a while, logging any calls for help that came across the line and writing in his journal. He's loath to call it his memoirs, but that's exactly what it is. He's traced his timeline out in the first pages, numbering the memories as he fills them in with stories and quotes later on. He wonders, when he decides against writing about his time in the cage, if its doors have been shut along with Heaven's and Hell's. 

Dean comes to get him, sometimes, if he's restless or Cas wakes him with his thrashing. His nightmares are still fresh; he has at least one most nights. Sam's own have diminished – he can't remember the last time he had one. Before Cas came back, that much he knows for sure.

Tonight is one of those nights, apparently, because Dean's standing in the doorway in nothing but his boxers, watching him. He comes closer, moving silently on bare feet and standing behind Sam, reading over his shoulder. He's tracing his memories of Gabriel, skipping around from memory to memory as he pieces things together. 

"Come on," Dean says, dropping one hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam smiles, finishing his sentence and setting aside the journal so Dean can take his hand and lead him to bed. 

~~~

It only takes about a month and a half of everyone starting to inch slowly toward happiness before Sam knows for certain that Dean is okay. He knows because Dean's libido comes back in a way Sam hasn't seen since before he threw himself and Lucifer into the cage.

He walks in on Dean jacking off in the showers twice in one week, and that is the one part of communal showers Sam really hates, but it's not like it's any more awkward than living in each other's pockets since he was less than a year old, so he just throws an insult over his shoulder and comes back in twenty minutes for his own shower.

Dean tries to get him to go out to the bars, but if there's one part of the hunting life Sam's ready to put to rest, it's drinking in seedy bars and picking up questionable women. Amelia really brought home the fact that it isn't about the sex for Sam, not really. His own sex drive is all twisted up with his stupid ideas of happily ever after and stable, long-term relationships. All those things are suddenly possible again – if he could bring himself to leave Dean, Cas, and the rest of the asylum inmates behind. 

He knows Dean wouldn't begrudge him going back out into the world, trying for some small piece of that normal life he's always wanted so badly. But Sam's forgotten how to do that, if he ever really knew how in the first place. He can't imagine leaving the bunker, leaving Cas and Dean and the rest of their little gang. What's the saying? Life is what happens to you while you're making other plans? 

So he isn't surprised when Dean turns to Charlie to be his wingman after Sam's refusal. She's a much better choice – clearly she's gotten way more pussy than Sam has in the last five years or so. They go out for a test run at the local pool hall – Moe's – and Sam wishes them both luck.

When Cas starts to droop, Sam takes him to bed and crawls in, mentally organizing the stories he wants to put in his journal while he watches over Cas, waiting for the first nightmare to strike. It usually happens as Cas is falling asleep. The falling dreams that Sam used to love as a kid terrify Cas. Sam has a feeling it's more a memory than a dream, but he's always sure to have his arms around Cas, so he knows where he is when he wakes up. 

Cas shakes himself awake right on time, breathing hard and trembling uncontrollably. Sam can feel when he remembers where he is because he relaxes into Sam's embrace, the tenseness draining out of him nearly as quickly as it came. He squeezes Sam – tight enough that Sam's thankful it's been a couple of hours since dinner – and rolls over, his back to Sam's side and one hand under his pillow. 

That's Sam's cue – somewhere in the last couple weeks he's taken to being Cas's big spoon. It's the most comfortable position Sam can find to fall asleep in, with only his feet dangling off one side of the bed. He flips the lamp off, scoots down the bed, and throws an arm over Cas.

~~~

Sam wakes up as soon as Dean and Charlie come home. He knows the squeak of the garage door and they're far from quiet as they head to their rooms. He cracks an eye open enough to see the high five when Charlie passes their door on the way to her room. 

As soon as Dean steps into the room, Sam can smell him. He smells like smoke and sex. Cas shifts restlessly under Sam's arm.

"Good night?"

"Yeah," Dean says, smiling contentedly. He pulls off his jacket and the smell gets stronger. Cas shifts again, and suddenly sits up. 

"What is that smell?" Cas asks, wrinkling his nose. He looks at Dean. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Dean says, still grinning as he takes his jeans off. 

He starts moving toward the bed and without warning, Cas turns around and throws himself against Sam, sticking his nose in Sam's t-shirt and inhaling. "Whoa," Sam says, his arms up because he's just not sure what to do with this. "Cas?" 

Cas doesn't say anything more, but he doesn't lift his head from Sam's chest, either, so Sam shrugs at Dean. "Take a shower?" 

"Man, I'm tired!" Dean complains, but his eyes move down to Cas and he sighs, grabbing his discarded clothes and leaving the room. 

~~~

Dean tries twice more to climb into bed after his escapades. The first time, Cas buries his nose in Sam's armpit, which Sam is fairly certain can't smell _better_ than Dean, but the second time, Cas actually scrambles over Sam to get away from Dean, and the look of hurt on Dean's face is only there for a second, but Sam catches a glimpse before Dean clamps down on it, his jaw clenching tightly as he leaves the room.

Sam thought maybe he'd start staying over at the women's places – he does seem exhausted when he gets in – but he just changes in his own room and showers before he comes in to them. 

He always takes a minute to figure out how to fit on those nights. When Dean is first in bed with Cas, they almost never end up spooning, so when Sam crawls in, he can flop onto his stomach and throw an arm over one of them easily. He usually chooses by which side of the bed has more room. If they are spooned, Sam just becomes the biggest spoon, still mostly flopped on his stomach, but with his arm around both of them.

Dean's arms aren't long enough for that, and come to think of it, Dean's never spooned up behind him, which probably should have pinged Sam earlier but he gave up on analyzing the cuddle pile when Dean made it clear that he and Cas were never going to become anything more than friends.

Dean climbs into bed, looking up and down Sam and Cas like they're a puzzle he's got to solve. Sam just grabs his arm and pulls him in, facing Cas and close enough that they'd be breathing each other's air if Cas wasn't so far down the bed, nestled in the covers. 

Dean smiles at him and threads his fingers through Sam's, drifting into sleep almost immediately.

~~~

Two things happen over the next three months. Well, three, actually. Number three is that Charlie gets a girlfriend. She's a nice young woman, a nurse practitioner from the office next to Garth's. Charlie still goes out with Dean as his wingman – wing-woman? – but Dean's outings slow down to once a week, or sometimes once every other week.

That's thing number two. It doesn't slow down Dean's sex drive, so jacking off in the showers becomes a normal thing, and they make a sign for the shower. They already had a "men/women" sign – none of them wanted to walk in on Linda, and while Charlie probably wouldn't have cared, she's young and pretty and besides Dean, none of them are getting enough sex to take the edge off walking in on a woman in the shower. So now there's a "privacy" sign, which probably should've occurred to them earlier – Sam's never been one to jack off in the shower, but he knows a lot of folks are.

Sam's lived with Dean's near-insatiable sexual appetites his whole life, so it doesn't really faze him. It does appear to faze Cas, though. 

Thing number one is something Sam expected to be a problem a long time ago.

Morning wood has never been a problem. They're not really snugglers, so while it's likely that Cas has his head in the cup of Sam's shoulder when he wakes up, his dick isn't actually close enough for Sam to notice. Even when they're spooned up, their legs don't tangle in a way where it's ever been uncomfortable.

That's before Cas starts having wet dreams. 

~~~

The first time it happens, Dean's out of the bed like a shot. Sam wouldn't have woken up if it hadn't been for Dean getting up so quickly the bedsprings creak. Sam's too groggy to get out anything more than a confused, "Dean?" but Dean's already out of the room so he just keeps blinking, waiting for his brain to come online and figure out what happened.

He's spooned behind Cas, his arm over Cas's side and resting on his stomach – and that's when it hits him. His hand is… sticky. 

He comes all the way awake in an instant, noting the sharp tang of come on the air. He doesn't move. He needs to assess the situation before he does anything else.

Cas is sleeping peacefully, so it's likely he just had a really good sex dream. Unless he was actually rubbing up against Dean, which would explain Dean's behavior. Dean comes back in, throwing a fresh set of sheets onto the chair next to the bed. He looks annoyed. "I'm taking a shower."

"'Kay," Sam mumbles. He almost wants to just go back to sleep, but he knows it's only going to get worse if they don't take care of it right now. He nudges Cas awake as Dean leaves the room. "Cas."

"Hmmph?" Cas asks, not opening his eyes.

"Cas, we need to clean up."

Cas's eyes still don't open, but he frowns and his brow furrows down in concern. His eyes blink open suddenly and he throws the covers off, looking down at the mess. The horror on his face is almost comical – and now Sam knows why Dean left. He's going to leave the talking to Sam.

"Cas, it's okay," Sam says, trying for soothing. His arm falls away when Cas sits up suddenly, hunched over with his back to Sam. "Cas."

"This is embarrassing," Cas says, still hunched over. His voice is very small.

"Happens to all of us," Sam says, discreetly wiping his hand off on the sheet. "When I was fourteen and Dean was coming in every night talking about the women he'd been with, I got wet dreams more than once a night, sometimes."

Cas looks over his shoulder at Sam. "You did?"

"Yeah," Sam says. "I was a giant beanpole and kinda nerdy. I didn't even lose my virginity for another year after that. Your body needs what it needs, man, it's bound to happen."

Cas huddles back into a ball, which can't be comfortable – the skin on Sam's hand is already starting to pull from where the come is dried on it; Cas's shorts have got to be unbearable. Sam realizes they're going to need something to clean up – and he can't go into the showers, because he can't be sure Dean isn't jacking off – he's obviously wasting time while Sam talks to Cas, and it's not like there's a whole lot else to do in the shower.

"Come on," Sam coaxes. "Let's get this cleaned up. You strip the bed and I'll go get something to wash us up with." He tries to make it as nonchalant as possible, getting up and throwing his jeans on before heading out to the kitchen. 

When he gets back with a wet rag and dry towel, Cas has stripped the bed and is halfway through getting the fitted sheet back on. Sam helps him and they remake the bed in a couple minutes. It smells nice – Sam loves fresh sheets – so he shucks his jeans and climbs in. When Cas picks up the damp washcloth Sam brought in, he rolls over on his side to give Cas a little privacy.

He can hear material shifting and for the first time all night, things have gotten weird. Having Cas's jizz on his hand was nowhere near as strange as Cas being naked and cleaning himself up three feet from where Sam's politely turned his back.

He's suddenly half-hard. He hasn't had sex since Amelia; almost two years. He doesn't miss it much. He only needs to jack off every few weeks at most, but when he does, he locks himself in his room and takes his time. He doesn't know why this would affect him that way, except maybe for the smell. The first time Dean came home from his evening escapades with Charlie, Sam spent an hour the next day fantasizing the way he used to when he was a teenager and Dean came home debauched by some woman from the local bar and couldn't stop talking about it. 

"Maybe you should go out with Dean," Sam offers. "He could be the wingman for once, help you get laid."

Cas scoffs. "I don't want to have sex with people I hardly know."

That makes Sam wonder if Cas wants to have sex with people he _does_ know, but there's no way that conversation could ever end in anything but disaster, so he just shrugs. "Well, then maybe you should start…" He tries to think of a euphemism that isn't abhorrent. "…cleaning the pipes once in a while. It's natural for your body to want sex when it's this close to another warm body."

He can hear Cas stop moving, like he does when a new idea strikes him and he simply cannot manage doing anything with his body while his brain is figuring things out. "You're saying I should masturbate."

Sam laughs. He doesn't think Cas minds them laughing at him anymore, not now that he knows it's not spiteful or mean. "Yeah, if you don't want this to happen again."

"I will take that under advisement," Cas says, slipping under the covers. He pulls on Sam's shoulder and Sam falls onto his back so Cas can rest his head on Sam's chest. 

"Thank you," Cas says, and Sam doesn't know what for, so he just kisses the top of Cas's head and says, "Go to sleep."

~~~

The second time it happens is less than a week later. Cas is curled up against Sam, and Dean's spooned behind Cas, and Sam wakes up from a vaguely sexy dream to Cas humping his leg. 

It's a stuttering, half-hearted motion, clearly done in Cas's sleep, and when Sam looks down at Cas, his face is completely slack. Dean's asleep too, though his face looks a little pinched, like he can tell something's going on, but his body is just too tired to actually wake up and acknowledge it.

"Cas," Sam whispers, squeezing Cas's shoulder to try and wake him. 

Cas moans softly and comes, a hot slippery mess spilling against Sam's hip. Dean wakes up, whether from the sound or the smell, Sam can't tell.

"God damn it, Cas," he says, springing off the bed violently. He hurries out of the room as Cas blinks himself awake.

"What…" Cas starts, and then throws the covers off and stares down at his mess. The look of consternation is unexpected, and Sam would be bothered by that, except he's covered in jizz, too, so he rolls over and climbs out of bed to get the sheets and clean clothes. Dean's nowhere to be found, so Sam assumes he's gone off to the showers.

Sam drops off the clean sheets, glad to see Cas has already stripped the bed. He cleans himself up and puts on his own change of shorts before wetting a dishcloth and grabbing a dishtowel for Cas. He debates putting a stock of regular towels in the kitchen for these occasions, but decides this isn't going to become a habit and goes back to Cas's room with determination.

Cas has put on the fitted sheet, so Sam gives him the stuff to clean up with and finishes making the bed himself. He's glad they became topsheet people when they moved into the bunker – this would've been a nightmare if they'd had to put on new quilts and comforters, too.

"I thought you were going to start masturbating," Sam says, as casually as he can. It annoys him that Dean leaves this part to him, but considering his own sexual education was mostly Dean telling stories about his sexual prowess, it's probably better this way.

"I tried," Cas says abruptly. "It didn't work."

Sam straightens up at that, involuntarily turning to Cas and wishing he hadn't when Cas is still wiping himself down. "What do you mean, it didn't work? What did you try?"

Cas continues cleaning himself up and Sam turns back to the bed. "I tried everything listed on Wikipedia except toys, because we don't have any, and none of it made me have an orgasm."

Sam pulls up the comforter and sits down on the bed. He should have known Cas would google masturbation, and he makes a mental note to see what the Wiki article looks like. "Well, what were you thinking about?"

Cas pulls on his boxers and climbs under the covers. "I was thinking about having an orgasm so my body wouldn't do something like this again."

Sam climbs under the covers too, lying on his back so Cas can put his head on Sam's shoulder and they can talk to the air instead of each other. "Well," Sam says once Cas is settled, "that's your problem. You have to think about something sexy."

"I don't understand what that is," Cas answers.

"Well, it means something that turns you on. Something that arouses you." Sam debates going into more detail, but Cas still feels tense and uncomfortable next to him. "When I was thirteen, I saw some movie Dean was watching on the TV where the woman climbed on top of the guy, and that was about the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. I jacked off to that fantasy for weeks."

"I don't understand why that is sexy," Cas says. "I don't find any of the sexual positions more arousing than any of the other sexual positions."

Sam sighs. He should have known. "Okay, so… how about people? I fantasized about a girl I met in Kalamazoo for a couple months in high school. She was perfect – long brown hair, a gorgeous smile, the perfect body…"

"I don't find people sexually arousing, either," Cas says, his shoulders hunching inwards. Sam squeezes him a little.

"There's no one you've ever met or seen that's interested you?" Sam boggles. He has a low sex drive, but he's never met someone with absolutely no interest.

"Not sexually, no."

Sam thinks about that for a moment, and then asks, "April?" He's pretty sure that Cas said he liked the sex they'd had.

"Yes. I enjoyed having sex with her. But thinking about it doesn't help. If anything, it makes the memory itself less precious."

Cas is curled into Sam, his body as small as he can make it, and he's talking directly into Sam's shoulder. Sam can tell he's embarrassed and probably frustrated.

"So the problem is that you can't imagine another experience that would be as enjoyable as that?"

Cas nods his head. Sam thinks about this for a minute. Creativity is probably a fault for an angel, but Cas, like Gabriel, Balthazar, and Anna, never seemed to have a problem in that area. He could clearly strategize, which is the same concept, if less fun.

Sam smiles. "So what you're telling me is that you have a lack of imagination where sex is concerned."

Cas makes a muffled noise into Sam's shoulder and Sam musses his hair. "All right, no big deal. We'll figure this out. Is there someone you find attractive? Someone I can help you think of a fantasy about?"

Sam's creating a list of actresses they've seen in recent movies – Scarlett Johannson, Zoe Saldana, Ziyi Zhang – when Cas says, quietly, "Dean."

Sam's stomach drops. He _was_ right about them. Damn it.

"What?" Dean asks from the doorway, sounding grumpy. He's freshly showered and frowning at the pair of them. "I can't get back in, I gotta be at work in forty-five minutes." He sounds resentful.

Was Cas answering his question, or was he addressing Dean? Sam can't ask, not with Dean standing right there, and it's killing him that he doesn't know, even if it's only for a couple of minutes until Dean leaves for work.

"Just for a minute," Cas says, and Sam can see Dean wavering.

Dean's gotten less cuddle time since he started his job, but Sam has never caught a whiff of jealousy before. Most nights, Dean gets a fair amount of alone time with Cas before Sam packs it in, and Sam's not a late sleeper, so he usually makes them get up less than an hour after Dean leaves. Cas sometimes sleeps in later, but even then, it's not common for him to sleep past nine.

Dean makes an annoyed face but walks around the bed to Sam's side, lying down on top of the covers and throwing an arm over Sam's stomach. He hums a little when Sam rubs his back. 

"You could call in sick," Sam suggests, but Dean just huffs out a breath in disagreement, giving Cas a pat on the hip and Sam a quick squeeze before getting up and heading out.

"See you tonight," Sam says as Dean leaves. Dean nods as he heads out the door.

Sam and Cas lie there, listening to Dean's footsteps and the creak of the garage door. Sam lets the silence hold for another minute before asking the question. "So, the fantasy, have you thought of someone?"

"Does it matter who it is?" Cas asks. "The sex act would be enjoyable with anyone."

Sam lets out his breath in a whoosh. It hadn't been Dean. 

"True," Sam says, "but I think most people find sex more enjoyable when you have some sort of a connection to the other person. Dean is usually turned on by women that find him attractive – their good taste, he says, but I think he's just a raging egomaniac."

"In your experience," Cas says, looking up at Sam now, "what kind of connection makes for the best sex?"

Sam frowns. He and Dean are two completely different animals when it comes to sex. "Well, for me, it's someone I'm in love with. Jess, Amelia, we had the best connection because there another level to our relationship, a trust. But there were others that I enjoyed too – I liked them and we had fun. It just depends what turns you on."

Cas nods thoughtfully. "I think you, then, or Dean."

Sam sputters. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. Women, at least, because April was a woman.

"You want to have sex with me? Or Dean?" 

Cas shrugs. "I enjoy sex, but I don't seem to have a sexual attraction to anyone in particular. If sex is better with someone you trust, then you and Dean are the best choices. If that makes you uncomfortable, it could be one of the others in the bunker."

Sam coughs. The only thing weirder than helping Cas out with a fantasy about himself or his brother would be helping him out with one about Charlie, Kevin, Linda or Garth. "No," Sam says. "No, this is fine. Dean's told me about almost every sexual encounter he's had since he was fifteen. I can come up with something." He pauses, thinking about how best to go about this. Sam's never had sex with a man, and if Dean has, he's never mentioned it. 

"All that stuff you tried," Sam asks, and feels Cas nod against his chest. "Was there anything that felt particularly pleasant, physically?" He thinks about it and adds, "Or painful?"

Cas hums in acknowledgement. "Autofellatio was pleasant, but the contortion necessary to achieve it was painful."

"Wow," Sam says. He had no idea it was even humanly possibly to give yourself a blowjob. "Okay, that's a good place to start. You can imagine getting a blowjob from Dean, can't you?"

"No," Cas answers.

"Try harder," Sam says, exasperated. When Cas starts to pull away from him, he grabs Cas's arm and yanks him back. He's not ready to face this like a real conversation yet. He takes a deep breath and sighs it out. "You've watched porn. Can't you just put you in place of one person and Dean in place of the other?"

"But neither of us is a woman," Cas says, "or a pizza delivery man."

Sam closes his eyes. Save him from Cas's literalism. "Fine," he snaps. He thinks back to one of his own blowjob fantasies. "Imagine Dean's on his knees in front of you."

"But–"

"No buts," Sam says, a little harsh, but this is really above and beyond the call of duty here. He won't get through it if Cas interrupts. "Listen and imagine what I say."

Cas nods against his chest. 

"Good," Sam says, and closes his eyes. "Imagine Dean on his knees in front of you." Sam pictures Jenny Brown from sophomore year in Montana. She had beautiful, long black hair and gorgeous brown eyes. "He unbuttons your pants and takes the zipper down slowly." He drags the last word out, thinking about looking down at her, how the eagerness of his partner in the fantasy always made it hotter. "You can see how much he wants to suck you, can't you?"

Cas makes a small noise, so Sam figures he's doing his job. "The anticipation is killing him, he wants it so bad." 

Cas's breath is shallow and hot; Sam can feel it as it puffs across his chest. He's weirdly pleased with himself – dictating a gay fantasy to Cas isn't something he ever thought he'd do, but like with any skill, useful or not, he's glad he's good at it.

"Put your hands in his hair," Sam says. He loves the feel of hair under his fingers, and he imagines short hair, to see if the sensation is any different. Of course it is, he thinks, and imagines tugging on the short hair, wondering what Dean's reaction would be. "When he finally pulls your dick out of your pants, pull his head forward so you can put your dick in his mouth."

Cas whimpers, and his fingers clutch at Sam's side. Sam realizes for this to work, Cas will have to start jacking himself, but he's lying on one arm and the other is slung across Sam's stomach. He doesn't want to mix up instruction in the fantasy – that would ruin it. The other option is to guide Cas's hand himself, and that would be… uncomfortable. 

Maybe he can lead by example. His dominant side is the one Cas is lying on, so he slides his arm out from around Cas and wedges it between them so he can get at his own dick. He pushes his boxers down enough to get a grip and is a little surprised to find that he's not completely flaccid. He gets himself firmly in hand, moving up and down his shaft rhythmically, and goes back to the fantasy. 

"Think about Dean putting his mouth on the head of your dick," Sam says, and remembers a thing Jess used to do that drove him absolutely wild. "Imagine him swirling his tongue around the tip."

Cas lets go of Sam finally, his hand trailing across Sam's chest. It makes his Sam's dick perk up with interest, and he curses it as a traitor. Cas isn't touching him like that, and Sam's determined not to need that kind of touch anymore. He's going to live with his own hand until… well, forever, if necessary. 

It's still nice, though, and Sam grits his teeth and waits for Cas to finish pulling his arm back. Cas's hand passes over Sam's forearm, though, and Cas's fingers play over the muscles, and then follow them down to where Sam has his dick in hand. 

He wants to tell Cas to stop, but he thinks the fantasy is working, and he's not entirely sure that Cas knows _how_ to use his hand to masturbate. When Cas's hand curls around Sam's fist, Sam's eyes roll back in his head. He hasn't had a real live person this close to him in two years. He lets out a shaky breath and pumps his hand up and down himself once to give Cas the right idea, and says, "Think about pushing your dick into Dean's mouth – slowly, watching it disappear, watching those pink lips around your shaft."

Cas makes another small noise, almost a whine, but doesn't move his hand. Sam's pretty sure Cas is right-handed, like him, so he takes his hand off his dick, opening his fist to dislodge Cas's hand clenched around his and gently taking Cas's wrist. He forces their hands down between them, where Cas is curled up on his side. It takes a second for Cas to catch on, but he does, and Sam can feel the tendons in Cas's wrist flex when he gets ahold of his dick.

Cas sighs out a pleased noise and Sam lets go, bringing his hand back up to himself because he's too far gone not to finish up, too. "There," he says, sure they're on the right track. "Now picture your dick sliding in and out of Dean's mouth, think about your hands in his hair holding him still, making him take your dick all the way in."

Sam's not sure when, exactly, his own fantasy switched over from Jenny to Dean, but he's too close to the edge to examine it that closely. He can feel Cas jacking himself, frantic, and asks, "Are you close, Cas? Are you going to come soon?"

Cas nods his head jerkily against Sam's chest. 

"Just keep going, keep picturing Dean on his knees, taking your dick in his mouth until you're ready to come, then come right down his throat, imagine him swallowing, his tongue sucking against the underside of your dick –" Cas goes rigid for a second, and then there's the familiar smell of come and the hot, slippery mess against his hip again. It all pushes Sam over the edge, and he comes too, pulsing streaks of his own under the sheets and making his entire stomach and pelvic area a mess. He groans. They're going to have to do a load of sheets today.

With a sinking feeling, Sam opens his eyes to survey the mess. Cas looks okay, a little more mussed than his usual bedhead, but not really any worse for wear. Sam's covered in come, which is not his favorite thing, but manageable. Then he looks around, briefly, his eyes settling on the door to their room.

It's standing wide open. 

~~~

Either no one heard them or they are all too embarrassed to say anything about it, because everything goes back to normal after that. Sam buys a few extra sheet sets and puts them in the linen closet, but other than that, he forgets about it and goes back to his more typical homemaker duties. He thinks he might try to learn how to make pie.

They go six weeks without any kind of incident. Dean showers a lot – in the morning, of course, but most evenings, too, and sometimes in the middle of the day, if they're all hanging around the bunker. Sam thinks he's bored. He really needs a hobby.

Some weekday morning after Dean's left for work, Cas curls up close to Sam and whispers, "I need another one."

Sam hums because he's not really awake. He only stays conscious enough in the mornings to register Dean getting ready and heading to the garage, and then falls back asleep. "One what?" he asks.

"Fantasy."

Of course. Sam should've known better than to hope Cas would be able to make some up on his own. "Okay," Sam says, trying to think of jerk-off material. He's still sleepy and his brain is not cooperating. "I need some direction here. Tell me some things you enjoyed about sex with April, or your favorite things from the last fantasy."

Cas is quiet for so long that Sam's already started to doze off before he finally speaks up. "I liked listening to you."

Sam frowns, trying to figure out what that means, exactly. "Okay, well, that's a given, since I'll be telling you this one, too. I need something else to go on."

"I liked imagining Dean," Cas says, and Sam sighs in frustration. Before he can reframe the question to try and get some useful information, Cas asks, "Were you imagining Dean?"

Sam blinks, and looks down at Cas curled up against him. "At the end, yeah. I started thinking of a girl I used to know, but at the end it was too complicated to keep everything going, so it just… Dean was just there." He wonders a little at the lack of guilt. It feels like he should be embarrassed or maybe disturbed, but he can't really seem to care. "Why?"

Cas shrugs. "Just curious." He shifts his head so it snugs into its usual place in the cup of Sam's shoulder and says, "Tell me one of your fantasies."

Sam shifts uncomfortably. His fantasies are often dark and more about control than sex, and they're universally about people he's never actually had sex with. He sifts through his memories instead, thinking of the things Jess used to do that drove him crazy. He'd been so in love with her, everything about her is surrounded with a warm glow.

He thinks about how, when he was studying for the LSAT, Jess would try to coax him away from the books, how she'd wear see-through negligees or thongs and cut-off t-shirts, and say, "I'll just go get myself ready for you." 

His dick perks up at the thought, so he decides to go with that one. The only thing is, he is not sharing Jess, so that means translating the scenario to Dean and Cas. He hesitates, nerves suddenly getting to him. He knows gay sex can involve penetration, but he's not sure really how it works, and worse, trying to figure out who is going to be Jess in his scenario is enough to make the butterflies in his stomach seem more like Clydesdales. 

"What is it?" Cas asks.

Sam clears his throat. "So, uh," he starts, looking determinedly up at the ceiling. "When you tried masturbating, did uh… did you…"

"Did I put my fingers in my anus?" Cas asks, and Sam can feel the blood rushing to his face. His chest is flushed. 

"Yeah."

"Yes, and it was not unpleasant."

Sam nods. "Okay." 

Cas is curled up on his left this morning, which makes it easier for Sam to maneuver, but means Cas is resting on his right arm, which is sub-optimal. "Are you going to be able to…" He makes a jerking off gesture. "…like this? Or do you need to switch sides?"

"I am ambidextrous," Cas says.

For some reason, Sam doubts that. He can't put a finger on why, but he's willing to trust that Cas will be able to handle himself, so he just rubs his left hand up and down Cas's back once, and starts talking.

"You know how Dean gets home from work sometimes and he's really tired?"

Cas hmmmms agreeably.

"Well, pretend he's just come home and he's got his feet up, in his favorite wingback chair with a tumbler of the good whiskey." Sam can almost feel the burn of the whiskey, and while he's not surprised he's fallen into Dean's role in this fantasy, he is a little surprised how comfortably it fits. 

"Once he's settled, you're going to come in, wearing…" Sam has to stop and think. What's mostly naked and sexy on a man? He panics for a second, and then remembers Amelia buying him boxer-briefs and leaving them for him to figure out. She went crazy when he'd walk around in nothing but those. "…wearing nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs."

Cas makes a curious noise; Sam's guess is he doesn't actually know what they are, but he doesn't seem inclined to ask, so Sam rolls with it. "Dean can't take his eyes off you. He stares at your chest, your legs. He looks like he wants to eat you alive."

Cas is breathing faster, the damp spread of it over Sam's chest is reassuring. "He still looks tired, though, so you tell him you're just going to go get yourself ready for him."

Here's where Sam discovers another major flaw in the plan. He's basically giving Cas a fantasy about Cas masturbating. He keeps going. There's a rhythm to this and everything will come crashing down if he hesitates.

"So, you come to the bedroom and strip, lay yourself down on the bed and start to stroke yourself, thinking about how Dean's going to come in and fuck you when he's good and ready. You get yourself wet, you put your fingers in so when Dean comes in, all he has to do is slide right in."

Jess had always been so wet, and on the edge of orgasm. She was so gorgeous like that – thinking of her almost hurts.

"Take yourself right to the edge, but don't let yourself come. You've got to wait for Dean, listen for his footsteps in the hall." Cas's hand has sped up on his dick, but he's not frantic the way he was when he came last time, so Sam decides to fast forward to the good part.

"When you hear him, you get on your knees, spread yourself open for him," Sam says, thinking of Jess doing exactly that. Her ass was up in the air, and she was just waiting for him, stroking her clit and making little moans. "Keep stroking yourself. Get yourself close, so close you can barely stand it. You want Dean to hurry up so he can fuck you."

Cas is getting a little more frantic, so Sam keeps going. He's still stuck on Jess, so he's stopped stroking himself – the memory isn't actually something he wants to jack off to; it's weirdly precious even though it's about sex. He mentally shakes himself and shifts the scenario, thinking of walking in the room and seeing Cas on the bed, ass high in the air and waiting for him. 

"You hear him come in. He gets undressed watching you, so you put on a show – keep stroking yourself, keep getting yourself wet and open." Cas moans a little, and Sam starts pumping himself again. "You feel Dean behind you on the bed, he pulls your fingers away and lines up, pushing his dick in deep, one smooth stroke."

Cas whines, his hand has gone frantic again, so Sam keeps pushing. "He fucks you deep and slow, hands on your hips so he can pull you back against him, fuck all the way in, and then pulls out slow – slow enough to make you crazy. Keep stroking yourself, you know Dean's going to come soon, it doesn't take long when you're so wet and open, he slides right in, so deep."

Sam's nearly there himself, he just needs one last push, and he keeps babbling about slow and deep and wet until Cas finally comes, and closes his eyes and comes right after. Of all the things in this whole mess to finally make him feel a little weird, that seems trivial – but it basically means the fantasies aren't what's getting him going, it's _Cas_. And there's no way that isn't going to end very, very badly.

~~~

If nothing else, Sam figures giving Cas a second fantasy has earned him six weeks of relative peace in his not-always-but-mostly-solo sex life. He puts his concentration back on turning the bunker into a truly livable environment, and clears out a huge room full of random junk for completely selfish reasons – they need a bigger bed.

The sleeping quarters just aren't designed for anything bigger than a queen. The three of them make it work, but they're all big guys, and Sam's back has started to complain. He's got the California king all picked out and as soon as he's cleaned the whole room with bleach and a minor cleansing ritual involving salt water, sage, and sweetgrass, he calls the local furniture store and puts a hold on it. He debates painting, but if he gets Kevin and Garth to help, he might be able to set the bed up before Dean gets home, and that seems like it'd be a pretty great surprise. 

They do manage to get the bed into the bunker and assembled before Dean gets home, but between the beige walls and the fact that it's on the other side of the bunker from the rest of the sleeping rooms, he's not sure Dean's actually going to like it. He and Cas can paint tomorrow, but Sam's not sure about how Dean will feel about being so far away from the rest of the crew.

He's also not sure about what to do with all their stuff. Even though they almost always sleep in Cas's room, he and Dean still have their own rooms. They're nothing more than repositories for their individual collections of junk – Sam's books, Dean's weapons – but the idea of moving it all into a single room feels a little overzealous. 

He puts in a single big dresser and nightstands on both sides of the bed. There's enough room for a big desk and a couple of the leather chairs that were stored with the rest of the junk in the room. A laundry hamper in one corner and the room is complete – a bed Sam can stretch all the way out on and the few necessary pieces of furniture for them to throw their accumulated stuff on. 

Sam forces himself to stop worrying and go back to his project in the library. He and Kevin are changing the haphazard filing system into one that makes more sense, and he needs some brain-numbing busywork to do before Dean gets home.

~~~

The new bedroom is a hit. 

Sam and Cas intercept Dean as soon as he gets in from work and escort him to the new bedroom. Dean follows without comment, and his eyes light up when he sees the bed. He throws off his jacket and peels out of his t-shirt and jeans, slipping under the new sheets with a sigh. 

"Why didn't we do this months ago?" he asks, yawning as he stretches his arms over his head.

Sam doesn't answer. He knows a rhetorical question when he hears one, and besides, the actual answer is the kind of thing that he doesn't like to put into words, even in the confines of his own brain.

Dean reaches out and snags Cas's hand, pulling him onto the bed. Dean scoots over to make room for Cas and there's still half a bed on his other side. Sam's tempted to crawl in too, but he's not a napper, and it will mess with his sleep schedule if he tries, even if he doesn't actually sleep.

"Gonna nap," Dean says, already half-asleep, and Cas rolls his eyes but kicks his shoes off and shoves Dean onto his side so he can spoon behind him. Dean generally hates being the little spoon – except for naps. Sam's given up on even trying to understand why. He leaves them to their nap and decides to see if he can offer an extra pair of hands to prepare dinner. 

~~~

There are happy noises from all around the table, and Sam puts the lasagna on his 'go-to' recipe list. There's not much on it besides Linda's pancakes, Charlie's chicken noodle soup, Dean's burgers, and now Garth's lasagna, but they're getting there. It's Dean and Charlie's turn for dishes, so the rest of them clear the table and settle in for some TV time. 

Sam brings a book on fairy lore to read while they wait for the dishes to be done, and then thinks he might be reading it all night, since it's Garth's turn to pick and he always goes for animated movies. He decides on _How To Train Your Dragon_ though, and Sam's a sucker for dragons that are really cats in disguise, so he settles in, putting and arm around Linda when she leans against him, covered in a thin blanket. 

Cas's bean bag chair is on Dean's side, so once Dean's settled in and Kevin has taken up most of the rest of the big couch, his head on Dean's lap and his feet in Garth's, Cas sits down and leans back against Dean's shins. Dean rolls his eyes, but they're crinkled up happily, and Sam can tell he loves the attention. Charlie curls up on Linda's other side, throwing the blanket over both of them.

They settle in as the movie starts, the bowls of popcorn ostensibly for all of them but likely to be eaten entirely by Cas, and Sam gets sucked in more than he expects. It's not until he feels his phone buzz in his pocket, just before the final dragon battle is about to begin, that he even realizes Charlie's not on the couch anymore.

He checks his phone, and it's a text from Charlie. _Going to get in a quick shower before Dean takes over the bathroom_. Everyone knows what Dean gets up to in there, but they've self-sorted the shower schedule and Charlie's the only one that likes to shower at night. Dean's erratic second and third showers annoy her more than the rest of them.

He glances at her as she's leaving and she puts up a hand in acknowledgement (none of them go off alone without letting someone else know where they'll be, even in the bunker) and nods her head toward Dean.

Sam waves back and turns to look at his brother. He's sitting stock-still, looking straight forward at the movie but obviously not actually taking it in. Kevin's asleep on his lap – working two jobs is wreaking havoc with his sleep schedule – and Cas is…

Cas is curled around Dean's calves, much like one of the cat-like dragons in the movie, and his left hand is stroking Dean's knee. Sam can't tell if it's intentional or not, but he knows (weirdly, _why does he know this?_ he groans at himself) that Dean has extremely sensitive knees. They are ticklish, sometimes, and other times, like when he hasn't had sex with a real, live person in months, touching Dean's knee, even brushing it accidentally, which Sam has done, can cause him to pop a boner. 

Sam settles in and thinks about that. Dean knows his secret, too – he has sensitive palms and has had inappropriate hard-ons in the middle of investigations because people seem weirdly drawn to his hands and will randomly grab them to investigate. He knows that Dean is just waiting for the movie to end so he can go jerk off in the shower, and obviously Charlie could tell that too, thus her hasty exit. Dean looks more uncomfortable than Sam has ever seen him. He can't tell if it's because Cas seems entranced with his knee and won't stop touching it, or if Kevin's head resting on his thigh makes him uncomfortable. Both, if he knows Dean at all.

"Hey mama bear," he whispers to Linda. "Baby bear is asleep on the other couch. Maybe we should get him into bed."

Linda leans forward to look around Sam, and her face softens when she sees Kevin drooling on Dean's jeans. "I've got it," she says, throwing the blanket over the back of their couch and going over to gently wake Kevin up.

Kevin gets up without comment, groggily following his mom out of the room. She gives Sam's shoulder a squeeze as they head out. 

Garth hangs around until the end of the movie, but clears out right afterward. "Early schedule tomorrow," he says, pulling the DVD out and putting it back in its case. "You want me to put something else in for you?"

He's smiling knowingly, which freaks Sam out a little, but Garth has always been cool, so when Sam shakes his head, he just hands over the remotes and changes the TV over to cable. "Night," Garth says as he leaves, and the three of them answer him together, a chorus of jumbled farewells that makes Garth's smile even bigger.

Sam stands and stretches. "I'm kinda wiped," he says. "I'm heading to bed."

Cas climbs out of his bean bag chair, staying silent but clearly planning to follow Sam. They turn to Dean, and he opens his mouth to tell them he's going to take a shower, but Cas beats him to it.

"You don't have to shower," Cas says.

Dean gets up, a little stiffly, Sam notices, and raises an eyebrow at Cas. "You're the one that doesn't like my stink."

"That's disingenuous," Cas snaps, his eyes bright and angry. It reminds Sam a little bit of Cas as an angel and he can't help frowning. "I didn't like the smell of smoke and sex."

"Well, Cas," Dean says, smiling smarmily, "I don't just shower in the shower, if you get my drift, so–"

"Yes," Cas says, "I understand you masturbate. A lot. Presumably because you aren't going out and seeking sex any more. So the showers are unnecessary."

Cas's bluntness has been the cause of some seriously uncomfortable situations, so Sam wants to jump in, but he can't figure out what to say before Dean snaps back at Cas. "They're _more_ necessary," Dean bites out, "because I haven't had sex in a long time now, and I need to do something to take the edge off."

"You could do it in bed," Cas says, and Sam's heart sinks. He knows where this is heading and he's pretty sure Dean's going to punch him for it.

"No," Dean says, the word enunciated very carefully. He takes another breath but Cas interrupts with, "Sam and I do."

Dean doesn't move for a second, and Sam's brain is screaming at him to start explaining before Dean hauls off and hits him, but the words aren't coming. He keeps staring back at Dean, willing him to stop this discussion before Cas can say anything else.

Unfortunately, Dean doesn't seem inclined to let the comment slide. "Together?" he asks, and Sam answers with a quick "no!" at the same time that Cas calmly says, "yes."

Cas looks at him, disappointed, and Sam's words suddenly come back online. "Not like that – it wasn't… it wasn't anything! We just… He just… with the wet dreams, and then he didn't know how, and I was just helping him so things wouldn't be awkward." 

Dean is still staring at him, but now his mouth is open and he's blinking a lot. The shocked look on Dean's face is something Sam would savor under any other circumstances. 

"How is that not awkward?" Dean asks, sounding a little desperate.

Sam thinks back over the two times he and Cas did it, and he has a vague idea that it was a little uncomfortable, but not so bad Sam couldn't get the job done. "I was just helping Cas find his own groove. He doesn't have an entire arsenal of sexual experiences to draw on for fantasy material."

"Did you…" Dean stops, looks pained, throws a glance at Cas and then looks back at Sam. "Did you tell him one of mine?" Sam can't tell if Dean looks more smug or horrified – his expression is a mixture of both. All Sam can think is _please just don't ask who he fantasized about_ because that is about the only way this conversation could dig Sam in any deeper.

Sam shakes his head.

"So you see," Cas continues, patiently, like a teacher waiting for his class to catch up to the problem at hand, "you don't have to shower. You can masturbate in bed."

Dean shakes his head in disbelief, his arms wide in a "please help me" gesture, and says, "Okay, just, _no_ , for a million reasons, but here's just one: it smells like sex after – so you won't like it."

"No," Cas answers, his calm equilibrium making Sam even more jumpy, "sex is the smell of you and another person. Semen from masturbation only smells like you."

"Okay," Sam says, throwing his hands up and turning around to head out of the movie room. "I am going to bed. You guys work this out and I'll see you there."

"Wait," Dean calls, half running the four steps it takes to catch up with Sam. Sam keeps going and Dean matches him, stride for stride. "You really… with Cas?"

"It wasn't like that, I'm telling you," Sam says. "It was helping a friend out, I was more focused on making sure he even knew what to do more than anything."

Dean snorts his disbelief, but the questions don't stop. "And you'd be okay with me jacking off in bed." 

"Whatever," Sam answers. "It's not like I didn't do it when I was fourteen and horny and you were asleep."

"I wasn't asleep," Dean says darkly, and Sam rolls his eyes. His embarrassment has been at its maximum level since Cas said they masturbated together. He can't muster up any more for something that happened fifteen years ago.

"Fine," Sam answers. "I probably won't be either but who cares? Just do what you need to do and try not to make a mess on the sheets. They're new."

Dean stops in his tracks. Sam doesn't even look back, he just keeps moving like a banshee's on his tail as he heads for their new bedroom.

"Wait," Dean says, running to catch up again. "Is that why you got the new bed?" He gets a hand on Sam's arm and yanks. "Stop – look at me!" 

Sam stops, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before turning to face Dean. 

"Is that what the new bed is about?" Dean asks.

"No," Sam answers, with complete and sincere honesty. "You know there aren't really any beds I fit on anymore. This is a completely selfish thing that I thought we could share."

"Besides," Cas says as he saunters up behind Dean, "since you obviously value sleeping with us enough to stop having sex with strangers, it makes sense to have a long-term solution to the problem of Sam's sprawl."

It's Sam's turn to gape at Cas. He understood that Dean had given sex up and that the result was the two or three time a day masturbation routine, but he hadn't put together the fact that Dean had basically given up sex for them. He doesn't know how he feels about that.

They stand there together, around the corner from their new bed, and all the fight goes out of Sam. "Fuck it," he says, dismissing them both with a wave of his hand. "I'm going to bed. You assholes can join me if you want." 

~~~

Sam strips as he enters the room, letting the clothes fall where they may, and flops onto the bed, reveling in the fact that his feet don't hang off the end. He can hear Dean and Cas's low voices in the hall and he's surprised to find that he's not worried about it. He knows, without a doubt, that Dean won't give up sleeping with them no matter what happens, so the rest of it is irrelevant. He smiles, curling around his pillow and splaying his limbs as wide as he can, just to get Cas back for his comment.

He's nearly asleep when they finally come in. They're not talking and the whisper of their clothes being removed is comforting. Dean doesn't smell like soap and shampoo, so Cas seems to have convinced him it's okay. Cas can be surprisingly persuasive. Sam smiles and budges up a little so he doesn't take up the entire bed.

It's Cas that crawls in next; he weighs less than Dean and is more careful with his body. He scoots in until their sides are flush, and Sam would throw an arm over him but he's too tired to move.

Dean flips the lights off and climbs in next, a heavy weight dropping onto the mattress, and another thump as his head hits the pillow. Sam smiles to himself and lets his mind drift, hoping to fall all the way to sleep soon.

That's not in the cards. Dean starts jerking off almost immediately. Sam's far enough away on this bed that it doesn't actually bother him that much, it's just a rhythmic movement of the mattress – Dean's silent otherwise – but Cas starts too, and that's a shift of Cas's skin against his. Not to mention Cas heats up like a furnace when he does this, a fact Sam hadn't actually thought about before but now smacks him in the face.

Sam keeps his eyes shut and waits for it all to be over. Then the squelching sounds start, and Sam's eyes snap open at the same time Dean stops beating off – and without that shift in the mattress, it makes it obvious what Cas is doing – but where hell did he get lube?

"What are you doing?" Dean asks, in his "threaten the monster" voice, which Sam knows is really his "I'm going to put on bravado because I'm scared shitless" voice. 

"The same thing you are," Cas answers, and Dean barks out a single, humorless laugh.

Dean throws the covers back, and Sam feels a chill go up his spine from the sudden dispersal of heat. "That is not what I'm doing."

Cas shrugs, his shoulders sliding up Sam's back as he does it. Sam clenches his eyes shut and does not turn around to look. "I enjoy this," Cas says simply. "It appears you do too."

Sam's eyes snap open. That sounded like Cas was suggesting – 

"We can have sex, if you'd rather do that than masturbate," Cas says, sounding as if this is a completely reasonable situation.

The bed bounces a little as Dean gets off it. Sam's not sure if he's relieved or not; he's half-hard now, and if this is the way things are going, they can't object to him jacking off while they're having sex right next to him, in the same bed. They probably wouldn't even notice.

Then the bed dips again – and if Dean isn't going to take a shower at this point, it means… Sam lifts his head to check and sure enough, Dean's putting a condom on. It's only fair, Sam thinks, he hasn't had sex in months, and Cas looks obscenely perfect, fucking himself on his own fingers.

Dean catches his eye and stills, and the last thing Sam wants is to scare him off. He nods and puts his head back down, breathing deeply and shifting so he can get a hand under himself to at least take advantage of his imagination, if not the actual show.

"Here," Cas says, and there's the sound of lube being squeezed out of a bottle. Then, "Let me," and Cas shifts away from Sam, taking his heat with him and making Sam shiver with its absence. Now Sam can move more freely, though, so he rolls onto his side, his back to them, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

For all the descriptions Dean's provided him with, and the few brain-searing accidents of Sam walking in on him, he hadn't realized that Dean talks during sex. And not dirty-talking, the way Sam might have imagined it. 

It's sweet, and in this situation, heartbreaking. His guess about Dean was right – Dean hasn't had sex with a guy before, and while he doesn't sound nervous, his confessions make Sam uncomfortable.

"I've never done this, you have to tell me if it hurts or I'm doing something wrong."

Cas doesn't answer, but the bed shifts sharply and Dean lets out a groan. "Fuck, Cas."

Between the smooth rhythm Dean sets and the small, whimpering noises Cas is making, it's not too hard to imagine what's going on. Sam closes his eyes and jacks off to the deliberately slow pace Dean is keeping. He just wishes he could see whether it was Dean's experience or inexperience at work. 

He's still talking, generic, you-look-so-gorgeous-like-this kind of stuff that Sam can imagine he's always done with women because, despite the fact that he's never going to see them again, Dean is a gentleman and wants them to have a really good time. It's a little disconcerting that this is Dean's automatic sex talk.

There's no build-up on the other half of the bed that Sam can feel, so tiredness sets in, and he debates whether it would be rude to finish himself off with a fantasy and go to sleep. He smiles to himself. The fact that he can even consider such a thing means they're going to be just fine.

He decides it _would_ be rude, though, so he gives up all pretense and rolls onto his back and opens his eyes. Cas is on his knees and Dean is fucking him slowly, still babbling nonsense but looking blissed out. Cas, while he looks like he's enjoying it, seems frustrated.

Sam looks them over closely and realizes that Cas is resting his weight on his hands, spaced evenly for maximum support, and Dean's got both hands on Cas's hips, using them to guide himself with the utmost control.

No one is touching Cas's dick. 

Without thinking, Sam reaches down and puts his hand around Cas. The contact jolts Cas, and he jumps a little, pushing into Sam's touch and breaking Dean's rhythm. That seems to break Dean's intense concentration and he looks down at Cas, his eyes traveling the length of Sam's arm and then up to Sam's face.

"Sammy," Dean breathes, conflict written on his face. Sam frowns. He knows that sound, he can see the doubt in Dean's eyes and he knows he has to do something drastic or this is going to end in disaster. He moves without thinking, scoots down the bed and takes Cas's dick in his mouth.

He's never given a blowjob before, but it hardly seems to matter, since everything goes crazy at that point. He hears Dean say his name again, this time sounding desperate but not broken, and Cas stutters his hips forward, blunt little stabs of pressure into Sam's mouth. It's the hottest thing Sam's ever been a part of in his entire life.

Dean's babble stops and his concentration returns, his strokes short and urgent, and pushing Cas deeper into Sam's mouth. It's still not anywhere near his gag reflex, though, so either Cas is being thoughtful or his instincts don't lend themselves to face fucking, and for that, Sam is grateful, because it means he can get a hand on himself in the midst of all this.

"Sam – oh, fuck," Dean growls, and the rhythm stops as he stiffens. Cas keeps up the slight shifts of his hips and Dean groans like that's even better. That sets Sam off, and he cups his hand around himself – a stray, urgent thought for the fresh new sheets keeping him from making a mess.

It makes him laugh, a strange sensation with Cas's dick heavy on his tongue, and that, in turn, makes Cas come – right in Sam's mouth. Sam laughs again, because he takes it for the same reason – those damn sheets – and Cas moans, his hips finally stilling.

Sam swallows, not sure what else to do, and wraps his tongue around Cas's dick as he pulls off, making sure no come gets away to make a stray mess. Cas moans again and collapses on the bed as soon as Sam's out from under him. That dislodges Dean, whose face is a mix of emotions, surprise and smugness warring with discomfort and uncertainty.

Before Sam can say anything to keep Dean from overthinking things and running away, possibly to ruin everything forever, Cas throws himself at Sam and kisses him, with tongue and everything.

Sam's shocked enough that he doesn't close his eyes right away, and he can see the uncertainty well up in Dean's eyes. Cas is determined, though, so Sam just pushes forward far enough to grab Dean's arm with his non-jizzed hand, and closes his eyes as he kisses Cas back.

When they come back up for air a few seconds later, Sam can see that Cas had the same idea he did – they each are holding one of Dean's arms, and when Cas pulls away, he raises a mischievous eyebrow at Sam.

Sam grins and yanks at the same time Cas does, tipping Dean forward on his face between the two of them. So much for Sam's perfect record with the sheets. He wipes his hand on the side of the bed and falls onto his back, waiting for Dean to settle in with his head over Sam's heart. 

Dean doesn't move though, he stays face down on the mattress, and it doesn't take long before Sam panics. Whatever this is now, he's fine with it; it feels like they've been heading here for years now – maybe his whole life, when he spares a thought for it – and he doesn't want Dean's overdeveloped sense of responsibility kicking in and fucking everything up.

"Your dick'll fall off if you leave that condom on," he tries. Dean'd told him that when he was twelve, along with several other hygiene-related tall tales.

Cas's eyebrows shoot up, like he might take matters in his own hands to preserve Dean's dick and Sam gives him a brief shake of his head. Cas makes an annoyed face and turns his attention back to Dean. 

"Stop whatever you are thinking," Cas says. "It's wrong and unhelpful."

Trust Cas to goad Dean into lifting his head up just to argue. He starts in on Cas, a few angry words that don't even register because Cas just leans in and kisses Dean. The surprise works to shut Dean up for a second and he stills, his muscles frozen. He recovers pretty quickly, though, and shoves Cas off. "Hey," Dean barks, rocking away from Cas. That puts him flush against Sam, though, and he jumps, pushing up from between them to sit back on his haunches, facing them.

"Wrong and unhelpful," Cas says, reaching for the condom that's hanging limply off Dean's dick.

"Hey!" Dean says, slapping Cas's hand. "Hands off."

Cas shrugs, leaning back to stare at Dean. Sam follows his lead and does the same. Dean looks like he might run away, though, and if they don't get to equilibrium right now, it will be a long hard haul back here, if Dean doesn't call it off and start avoiding them altogether.

"Whatever your concerns are," Sam says, "Cas is right. We're fine – this is fine."

Dean shakes his head, the hamster wheel in his brain keeping him from bolting, at least for the moment. "Sammy," he whispers, and Sam sits up to get closer to Dean. He doesn't try to touch him yet, but he wants to be able to grab him if he tries to leave.

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," Sam says, using his best calm-the-witnesses voice. "No emotional trauma. Whatever else you're worried about, it's bullshit. I'm _fine_." 

Dean makes a pained noise, still hovering, his muscles twitching like they're trying to help him make his escape. He's staring at Sam, so he jumps when Cas puts a hand on his arm, but he doesn't pull away. Cas nods down at the condom and for a second, Dean seems absolutely normal as he pulls the condom off, ties it in a knot, and pitches it off the side of the bed. 

"Look," he says, like the return of his motor control brought back his words and his bravado and his sixteen walls of defense mechanisms. "This –"

"If you say 'this never happened,'" Cas says, his voice low and menacing in a way Sam hasn't heard since he was working against them instead of with them, "I will beat you within an inch of your life."

It's not an empty threat. Cas and Sam spar sometimes, when they have time and motivation, and the thousands of years of training make up for the fact that he's several inches shorter and at least fifty pounds lighter than Sam. Besides, he's beat Dean to a bloody pulp before.

"But –"

"If you doubt Sam's assertion that he is mentally and emotionally stable and accepting of this relationship in the form that it is now, I will beat you within an inch of your life."

Dean's face is mutinous and his hands curl into fists. Sam leans forward, trying to keep his face projecting concern while he gets close enough to intercept Dean if he decides to make a wild-ass punch.

"We –"

"If you try to apply some antiquated human standard about how relationships are designed to work to this situation, I –"

"You'll beat me within an inch of my life, I get it." 

Cas smiles broadly. Dean opens his mouth to speak, but Cas beats him to the punch one last time. "If your next words are anything but 'kiss me, Castiel,'" he says, "I believe you know what will happen."

Dean glares at Cas, but his next words are _kissmeCastiel_ , all rushed together. He puts a hand up to stay Cas before he can take Dean up on the offer. "I don't get to say anything?"

Cas shrugs and looks over at Sam. Sam frowns exaggeratedly and answers for the pair of them, since they seem to be on the same page. "As long as you don't leave the bed, you can say whatever you want."

Dean sets his ass down on the bed, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees. All pointy angles and sharp edges. He looks up at Sam, a silent question of _good enough?_ and Sam nods.

"You can't tell me you're okay with this," is Dean's opening gambit, and Sam wonders if that's his first reaction to every awkward situation – make Sam deal with it first.

"Yeah, actually," Sam says. Dean seems to expect more than that, so Sam takes a deep breath while he organizes his thoughts. He's been running on instinct where this thing between them is concerned, and for the first time since the early, post-Stanford hunting days with Dean, he feels like he can trust his gut. 

"You know how Kevin never even blinked that first time he found us all in bed together?"

Dean frowns and gives a single, sharp nod. 

"And how Linda and Garth never mentioned it?" 

Another frown and nod.

"Well, Charlie was the only one that had anything to say, and you know what that was?" 

Dean's frown eases up marginally. Sam loves Charlie, but she's got a lot more in common with Dean, so they've become closer than almost anyone else in the bunker, except for maybe Kevin and his mom. Dean trusts her, so that should make this argument a home run.

"She said it was an elegant solution."

Sam hadn't wanted to think about it before, but she's right. It's the perfect solution to so many of their stupid problems, the answer to all of their happily-ever-afters (which Sam is willing to acknowledge are basically not-dying-in-an-apocalypse ever-afters), to the way their girlfriends have always been jealous of their close relationship, to having a relatively impartial third person to cast the deciding vote. It just works, and Dean might not know it yet, but Sam's going to fight for this. 

Dean hasn't come up with a second plan of attack, apparently, because he closes his eyes and runs a hand down his face, a stalling tactic Sam knows well. Sam doesn't say any more; he's made his argument. Dean's just got to work through it in his own head.

"I want to kiss you again," Cas says after too much silence has passed. Dean's look of confusion is priceless, and before he can gather his wits, Cas adds, "Besides, you told me to."

Sam can't help the grin that takes over his face. Cas is sneaky. In the weeks since he's turned human, Sam's learned just how not-defenseless he is, and how what's showing on the surface is definitely the least of what's going on in Cas's mind. Sam wouldn't be surprised if he's been orchestrating this since he became human, one of many schemes and plots Sam's positive he has going on.

"Did you plan all this?" he asks Cas, who is leaning in toward Dean with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Cas says, and launches himself across the bed at Dean. Dean catches him and he rolls his eyes but he's smiling, too. When Cas takes Dean's face in his hands, Dean doesn't resist, he just reaches his hand out toward Sam, and Sam twists their fingers together, settling their combined hands on Cas's back so he knows it's Sam's turn next. 

~~~

The End

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is almost as long as the rest of the chapters put together, sorry about that. This is the first time I've written something like this in chapters, and it's been a learning experience.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


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